


Old-Timers or Love Likes Stratagem And Subterfuge

by Cloak_n_Dagger



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Banter, Bar Room Brawl, Best Friends, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Swallowing, Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Dreams, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Game Spoilers, Light Dom/sub, Love is hard, Masturbation, My First Smut, Nightmares, Oral Sex, POV Deacon, POV F!SS, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Shirtless, Smut, Snark, Spoilers, Swearing, Vaginal Sex, horrible nicknames, lying, quotes, wounded Deacon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:15:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloak_n_Dagger/pseuds/Cloak_n_Dagger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Deacon finds himself falling for the Professor, but relationships are not something that come easy for either of them at this point in their lives. Also, they search for the Professor's son, help people across the Commonwealth, discover crazy things and have adventures. Some MacCready sneaked in, oops!</p><p>Basically my headcanon background of the story for my F!SS, plus wish-fulfilment because WHY CAN'T I ROMANCE DEACON :(<br/>Starts several months into the main story; Blue already has max affinity with Deacon, otherwise I don't believe he'd even admit to himself he might be falling for her. It's all chronological, though, and will deal with the main story</p><p>I'll put more specific spoiler warnings in the top notes of each chapter for your safety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Put a Spell on You

**Author's Note:**

> A big shout out to MsCetacea & Anuket for beta reading this for me! The latter also has a great Deacon fic, that you can find [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5808730/chapters/13387417)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon & the Professor explore a quarry and have some quality time once they get back to Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some general adventure & Deacon pining after F!SS
> 
> Refers to in-game collectibles (in this case a weapon) and locations. No real story spoilers yet!
> 
> Titlesong: [Nina Simone - _I put a spell on you_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDprYZ-tgiA)

Deacon sighed. It had been a damn long day.

 

They had started exploring some quarry to clear it of raiders that were threatening the settlers in Sanctuary Hills. How they were a real threat when they were on the other side of the Commonwealth was beyond him. But the Professor had agreed to assist and honestly he was happy to help. He often wished Desdemona would agree to help out humans as well as synths. Some goodwill would make their struggle easier, but she didn’t want to stretch their resources. Travelling with the Professor gave him a chance to make up for that. At the bottom of that quarry they’d found an entrance to a tunnel system. Apparently, those caves not only housed more raiders but also feral ghouls. And now they’d found some creepy well at the bottom of the caves after following some vague clues left on the old computer systems. Leave it to the Professor to find mysterious references in a ghoul-infested, dank, trembling cave to be endlessly fascinating. He shouldn’t have been surprised at all.

 

The chamber surrounding the watery pit was almost as dark as the water that filled it. Involuntarily he shivered. What exactly were they doing here? The Professor explained. “I think there is an altar to one of the Old Gods here Deacon! Who knows what the priests left behind?” She hardly seemed fazed even as she took off her pieces of armour, checked the torch on her pip-boy and dove into the well to investigate.

 

_Not surprising at all. At least not to an insane person._

_Fuck. What are the actual survival rates when disturbing submerged altars to ancient deities?_

Deacon started pacing along the edge of the well. The only traces left of the Professor were the ripples on the surface of the water, sparkling in the dim light of some glowing fungus. In the depths of that cave, standing over the dark pool of water she had just vanished in to, was the first time he had the guts to admit it to himself. He had feelings for her.

And not just feelings of admiration and camaraderie. Deep feelings in his underbelly he hadn’t had in a very long time. Standing on the precipice of that well, he held his breath while she was submerged and counted the seconds.

 

By the time she emerged his heartbeat was pounding in his head and he felt slightly dizzy. Worried that his realization was written all over his face he quipped “Railroad tip #113: Don’t go diving in creepy swimming holes. That is all.” If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with the sacrificial blade she’d just recovered she definitely would have noticed the uncharacteristic tremble in his voice. But she was too busy rambling about the historical significance and practical applications of the weapon. He even had to remind her to maybe take a RadAway before she keeled over on their way out.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” She finally looked at him, and he felt naked, like she could read his thoughts right off of his face. He inspected the weapon in her hands. It roughly had the dimensions of a machete, but the blade was heavily serrated, almost curved, like a huge Kris knife. “It’s definitely very… creepy looking.” She looked at him quizzically.

 

 _Fuck._ _He never let his guard down like this._

 

“As far as sacrificial blades go, I’d say it doesn’t disappoint.” He continued, and she started giggling softly, testing the feel of the weapon in her hand. She smirked. “You’re such a piece of work, _Dee_!”

 

He took another look at the pit that had swallowed her up and was thankful she’d been spat back out. He wondered if he should say some kind of prayer to the God to leave the Professor be, but decided against it. Feeling more on solid footing now that they were slipping back into their old routine, he responded “You know you would be lost without me, _Blue_. Who else would follow you to places like this?” She scowled at the nickname he’d picked up from Piper, and started for the exit. “I don’t know, Dogmeat? Preston? Piper or Nick? Hell, Codsworth? Wait, why did I bring you along again?” He grinned. _No wonder nobody worships this Old One anymore. If it let her go, it definitely has terrible taste in women._

 

The closer they got to the surface, the more Deacon felt like himself again. It was a good thing they’d been thorough in getting rid of the ferals on the way down, because his eyes kept returning to her instead of scanning the environment for threats. Before long they were out in the sunshine again. _The problem with always wearing sunglasses is that_ _they’re no longer much help when you step outside._ He quickly replaced his wig with a worn Stetson, which elicited laughter from the Professor. “You and your costume changes! Sometimes you scare the living hell out of me. Like some mysterious stranger is suddenly standing next to me.” “That’s kind of the point, yeah? It’s called a disguise.” He looked down at the quarry while they were climbing the stairs back up. “Is now a good time to tell you I’m afraid of heights?” The Professor rolled her eyes at him. “Just don’t faint okay? And don’t look down.”

 

Thankfully, the trek back to Sanctuary Hills was relatively uneventful by Commonwealth standards. They came across some wildlife that was easily dealt with. Nothing ever even saw them coming, not unless she wanted it to. There were some buildings the Professor wanted to explore, but their packs were already bursting at the seams with aluminium canisters and other junk she’d picked up along the way. So she took a moment to mark them on the map of her fancy wristwatch instead. The weather held, so they could enjoy the warm sunshine after spending several hours in a cold cave. The sun was setting when they finally approached their destination. Deacon looked at the wooden bridge to Sanctuary Hills as he walked over it.

 

 _Broken down, but still serviceable. Like me_.

 

_Fuck, like half the Commonwealth for that matter._

 

He looked at the Professor. She didn’t _look_ broken, but he thought he knew better. She was a woman out of time, in a world that had turned to fucking dog shit.

 

From her perspective, it had only been a few months since she held her son and husband and lost them. Since the Big One. It was going to catch up with her at some point, and he’d be there when she needed him. It seemed a miracle to him that she was even handling any of this at all. But she seemed to do more than that. She rose above it. A few months in the Commonwealth and she’d established several settlements by clearing them of various types of vermin, taken back the Castle for the Minutemen, found the Railroad, assisted with their safe houses both old and new, and managed to track down a possible lead to her son.

 

“I’m gonna find that settler and Preston before I turn in, to let them know the situation with the raiders is handled.” The Professor informed him.

 

“You do that G _eneral_. I’ll be stretching my legs by the campfire.”

He moaned slightly while he shifted the weight of the pack on his back. “I’ll need some time to recover from your command.”

 

She glanced at him sideways at the mention of her ‘official’ Minutemen title and narrowed her eyes. “Oh, Deacon, I’m _so_ sorry. I sometimes forget you grew up on an irradiated diet. Next time just let me know, I definitely can slow down a bit for _you_ … If you can’t keep up.” She winked away the innuendo, threw down her pack, and off she went.

 

Deacon tried to think of some riposte involving old-timers, but he really was tired. After throwing down his own pack (the Professor could sort through that junk tomorrow), he grabbed an ice cold Gwinnet Stout from Drinking Buddy, picked up a chair and put it down next to the fire.

 

That robot truly was a national treasure. The last time he’d had a cold one before the Professor found it had been years ago in the Capitol Wasteland. He tried to relax, but the memories of that dark place kept resurfacing and shifting his feelings from apprehension to arousal and back. Her diving in to the water, and scrambling back out. The way she half-smiled when they were poking fun at each other. The darkness and silence when she’d been underwater. The sun lighting up that blue hair.

 

 _Fuck._ _How was he going to handle this?_

 

He rummaged around in his pack until he had found some cigarettes and lit one up.

Of course, he had been interested in the Professor long before he ever met her. The first time he heard about the vault dweller from Vault 111 on Diamond City radio he’d decided to investigate. Anyone making waves like that could make a valuable ally _or_ a dangerous enemy. The Railroad had knowledge of the existence of Vault 111, but P.A.M.’s calculations had indicated it had most likely been destroyed.

He’d set up a stake-out post that overlooked both the vault and Sanctuary Hills just to keep tabs on her. Deacon could almost see the spot from where he was sitting now. Fuck, the biggest difference between now and those stakeouts was that his beer was cold.

 

Moreover, she knew he was here now, of course.

 

Buddy came up to him and replaced his now empty bottle with a full one. Gratefully he took a swig. He told himself the interest had been purely professional, that with the waves she was making across the Commonwealth it made sense to keep tabs on her. But with regular updates on her exploits being broadcast across the ether there was hardly a reason for him to personally spy on her, he realised now. If he usually worked with a partner he’d have faced jokes about his interest in her from the start. And it was a joke.

 

He was a joke.

 

There she was dealing with significant personal drama, with rebuilding the Commonwealth with the Minutemen, with helping synths through the Railroad and fuck knows what else. And here he was making googly eyes at her. Suddenly filled with self-loathing he emptied the rest of his beer into his mouth. He had grown pretty accustomed to drowning out the negative thoughts in his head with alcohol over the years. They were just a distraction keeping him from doing the right thing, beckoning him to act on his emotions. And he already knew where that ended.

 

_Bad places._

 

“Chemically speaking, alcohol _is_ a solution.” Buddy wheezed from his monotone voice box as he again replaced the empty bottle. Could the stupid robot read his damn mind? He should slow down, he hadn’t eaten anything substantial in a while, but he grabbed the beer and took another sip.

 

He might be a master of disguise and lies, but lately she was basically a shadow and he hadn’t seen her use a Stealth Boy in weeks. She’d always seemed to avoid a mess where possible, but the first time they went out together she’d preferred a submachine gun. And an old time super hero outfit, for some reason. Now she was all about that silent kill, making good use of that silenced 10mm prototype they’d picked up on their first outing cleaning at the Switchboard.

 

Something about the student surpassing the master?

 

She was definitely a swift learner.

 

He really dug her style though, sneaking around like some old world ninja. The woman knew her way around a computer and liked to reactivate Protectrons to provide a distraction. Knew her way around a bobby pin and screwdriver too.

The way she had both adapted to life in the Commonwealth and kept those fabled old world morals was… well, let’s just say she had a very stubborn case of positive thinking. Probably the most serious case he had come across.

 

Trying to fix the Commonwealth, trying to fight the Institute, trying to find her son…

It was as if none of the bad stuff weighed her down. Was that what people were like in the old world? He had a hard time believing it. If everyone had been like that the Big One wouldn’t have happened, would it?

 

But there she was, strolling around the Commonwealth with a spring in her step, like she owned the place. He wondered what she’d looked like before, with laundered clothes and regular baths and her old haircut. Had she exuded such confidence then? The haircut he’d seen once up close, when he was watching her as she entered Diamond City for the first time. She’d been with Piper, who’d been calling her _Blue_ on account of the vault suit. For some reason the first thing she’d done after arriving was dyeing her hair blue, getting a side-shaved haircut and ditching the vault suit. Somehow it only made the nickname Piper had picked more appropriate.

 

He finished his beer in an attempt to wash away his thought, her image, and eagerly accepted the new one Buddy offered.

 

“I was banned from the airport last week.” Buddy croaked “Apparently airport security doesn’t like it when you call ‘shotgun’ when boarding the plane. Ha. Ha. Ha.” Deacon grinned. Some of Buddy’s jokes might even be funny if its delivery wasn’t so horribly off. Or its jokes weren’t so out-of-date. “You need to get some new material Buddy. Maybe the Professor can program some new jokes. Some puns perhaps?” Swirling the beer in his bottle, he realized he was feeling slightly intoxicated.

 

“What, exactly, should I be programming now?” The Professor was standing right beside him. Deacon swivelled his head towards her.

 

“Buddy. Think you’re up for it?”

 

She answered “Wouldn’t reprogramming Buddy go against some of those Railroad guidelines you like to quote?” and added “Think fast!” while she threw something at him. He made an attempt to catch it but, needless to say, thinking fast was off of the table at the moment. She laughed as it fell to the ground and he reached to pick it up.

 

“Blamco Mac n Cheese? What, no mirelurk soufflés? I’ll ruin my palate.” He smirked.

 

“Your _palate_? I’ve _seen_ what you wastelanders put in your mouths Deacon.” She put on a fake shocked face and shuddered.

 

“You have no idea what I’d like to put in my mouth Blue.”

 

Fuck. That slipped out before he had time to think it over.

 

He casually glanced up to see her reaction, but it was too dark to see her eyes and she kept a straight face.

 

“But I’ve always admired that old world elitism of yours.”

 

It was a weak comeback and he knew it. The Professor wasn’t smiling anymore, and slouched in a chair further from the fire while starting her own dinner, staring off in the distance. In his haste to cover up his feelings he had apparently put his foot in his mouth. They were always poking fun at each other’s eras of origin, but now he’d crossed some line or reminded her of something she wanted to forget somehow.

 

When she finished her dinner she grabbed a beer and sat down on the ground by the fire, with her back turned towards him.

 

“You have no idea how different it really was. It’s crazy. It feels like… like Shaun, that whole life, the bomb, the vault… It’s like when you’ve had a dream…” She didn’t look at him as she struggled to finish a sentence but he could hear an edge of desperation in her voice. He wanted to console her, but he had no idea what she needed. “Well fuck, I may not know how different it was, but I’d think this would qualify as a nightmare Prof.”

 

She shook her head and drank from her beer.

 

“That’s what makes it crazy, Deacon. You’d think this…” She gestured around her with her beer “Would feel like the nightmare. Like I just need to _wake up_. But it doesn’t. My _old life_ feels like the dream. And it’s fading away, like it was never real. It’s why I stay here, in Sanctuary. To remind myself… I used to live here, you know.”

Of course he knew. Information was his trade after all.

 

He’d always assumed she was from the area, but he’d put two and two together when he was looking around Sanctuary Hills the first time she took him there. She’d done a ton off work and cleaned out most of the houses that were still standing. But in one house a room still had its original furniture. A crib topped by a mobile with rockets. Toys spread across the floor.

 

Deacon tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He suddenly felt sober, and uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

 

He got up, grabbed two more beers from Buddy and sat down beside her. _What are friends for._ Without saying another word they sat there drinking their beers. After a while she laid her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her shoulder and tried to hold his breath, afraid to disturb this frail moment between them. Never had he felt so content - or inadequate - before. Here she was, sharing her feelings with him, and all he could think about was how soft she felt against his side, how nice she smelt in spite of the general lack of hygiene, how he wanted to kiss her until there was no thought left in that amazing brain of hers…

 

Although he’d divulged some real information about himself to her recently, in most of their interactions she’d matched his deceptions and sarcasm every step of the way. If the Professor was in any way uncertain of a situation or person, she tended to outdo even him. This was the woman who had told Piper in an interview she’d lived in a vault with hundreds of guinea pigs who, at one point, turned carnivorous, after all. It was probably part of the reason he’d grown to trust her so quickly. But underneath the snarky exterior he’d seen a woman who stopped to look at the dawn when they were travelling early and who got giddy when they found textbooks that were decipherable. Who seemed to care a lot about the state of things around her.

 

Here they were, yet another layer peeled back.

 

_People are kind of like onions that way. Peel back a few layers and everyone starts crying._

 

The fire was getting low.

He tried to will it back to life, because if it got any lower that would mean moving, either for more wood or for bed. Before too long the Professor stretched herself out of his loose embrace.

 

“Thanks, Deacon.” She managed a sideward glance. “For being here.” She stood there for a second before continuing in a more playful tone. “I’m turning in before I fall asleep in your arms again. People will start to talk!”

 

He sat there carefully finishing his beer until he could no longer feel her silhouette burning against his side.

 

The next morning she seemed like herself again, albeit even more determined if the twitch around her mouth told him anything. After a quick breakfast, she came to drop a bombshell on him.

 

“Hey, Deacon? I think we’d better part ways for a while. I’m going after Kellogg.”

 

He immediately felt a knot in his stomach, and wanted to protest that she shouldn’t go after him alone, that the Railroad had an obvious interest in going after a potential agent of the Institute, anything to keep her from going alone. He knew it wouldn’t matter, not when she had _that_ face, so he kept his cool.

 

“I guess all good things must come to an end. You come find me when you’ve taken care of it, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Strawberry Fields Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor goes after the man who kidnapped her son and comes back to Sanctuary in a world of hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post discovering Diamond City story spoilers ahead. Also for Deacons backstory.
> 
> Titlesong: [The Beatles - _Strawberry fields forever_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eG8cR4ovD_o)

She had been on Kellogg’s trail for hours. Dogmeat was following his scent, and leading her east from Diamond City. She wondered if Kellogg knew what an obvious trail he was leaving behind, with his San Francisco Sunlight cigars and bloodied bandages. It seemed to her that a seasoned mercenary would know how to hide his trail. Or was he so used to gunning down anybody that crossed his path that he just didn’t bother to hide? Apparently he’d hid in plain sight for years in Diamond City without causing trouble. Why? Was the boy he’d been seen with her son? Did he work for the Institute?

 

Especially the sight of those bandages had made her feel sick to her stomach. Was Shaun with Kellogg? Was he safe? She hadn’t seen any trace of her son or any other kid so far.

 

_If Shaun isn’t with him, I’m gonna hang that bastard up by his balls until he tells me exactly what is going on._

 

A new thought suddenly bloomed in her mind. _Does he know I’m on to him? That I’m following him? Is he waiting for me?_

 

She shook her head. There wasn’t any time for all these questions, to second guess herself. But she really hated going in to a situation with so many unknown variables. Slowly she sneaked up to the building Dogmeat was patiently sitting in front of, weapon at the ready. Hands shaking, heart pounding in her ears. Shit. To calm herself down she listed the most important questions she had for him in her head. _Who does he work for? Who is the boy he had with him in Diamond City? Most of all, where is Shaun?_

 

 _Get your shit together, Blue. Focus._ She pictured herself, crouched before the building, shaking and hesitating, and was glad she only took Dogmeat on this trip. Nobody needed to see her like this.

 

They all thought she was coping so well.

 

Preston, who’d somehow figured she could basically rebuild the Commonwealth from the ground up, regardless of her own problems. Not that the Commonwealth didn’t need rebuilding, but that wasn’t a job one could achieve in a short time frame. Looking at the state of things, it might take a lifetime. Several lifetimes, even. Things had really turned to shit. The only reason she’d even accepted the title of General of the Minuteman was the thought of Nate and Shaun. Nate, who’d fought so hard to make the world a better place. And she’d fight a dozen matriarch deathclaws with her bare hands if it meant Shaun could live in a better world, never mind raiders, ghouls, or super mutants. _It would have been better if Nate had survived. He’s the soldier, not me._

 

Piper, the first person she’d met here who felt like she could be an actual friend. But Piper would probably want to talk about it, and that was out of the question.

 

Then there was Nick. That synth was more human than half the people she’d met in the Commonwealth so far. And he’d certainly been understanding of her current behaviour, having gone through something slightly similar himself. But she was pretty sure that it was exactly his acceptance that would completely destroy her. There was just no way she could accept it herself.

 

Nick, in turn, was one of the reasons she had decided to help the Railroad. And that decision had led her to Deacon. Even though she knew better than to trust a word coming out of his mouth, his actions were real. She knew he had her back whenever she asked him too. And even better, he was never tearing down the walls she’d erected after waking up in this wasteland. His light-heartedness in the face of everything made her feel like she could take on the Commonwealth. Ever since she’d indulged his lies about her to Desdemona after their first outing together there had been a tacit agreement between them: He lied, and she went along with it. The only time she’d really seen him acting serious was when he finally told her the real story behind him joining the Railroad. At least, she thought he was being serious. Maybe it was just another, better lie. He’d only fooled her once before, when he told her he was a synth and give her his recall code. She’d had a nagging suspicion because of that code though, because why give it to her so easily? So one night she’d read it, and she immediately knew.

 

_You can’t trust everyone._

 

Her legs had gotten stiff standing around like this. Carefully she slinked to the front door, but it was covered up with boards. She was not getting in this way.

 

“Hey, boy. You wait here for a while, okay? I’m going to find a way inside.”

 

Dogmeat whined softly, and skulked to the remnants of a building across the street. She prowled around the building until she found some scaffolding around back, and climbed it to reach the roof. The few turrets she found there were easily dispatched of. And, before long, she found a hatch that would allow her to enter. Before opening it, she looked at the sky. In the east the horizon was coloured pink, but above her she could still see stars. There were so many of them, way more than she’d ever seen before the Big One. For a moment, she was in awe at the unexpected magnificence of the view, but she shook it off. _Here we go._ She opened the hatch. _Once more unto the breach._

 

*                      *                      *

 

She couldn’t imagine any way in which it could have turned out to be a bigger disaster. After shooting every single gen 1 synth in Fort Hagen in the head until it stopped moving, she had finally found Kellogg. Not only had he confirmed her worst fear, Shaun was with the Institute, but he’d revealed he had taken her son ten years before she’d emerged from Vault 111.

 

Her baby boy was ten years old.

 

After all that, even if Kellogg hadn’t been intent on fighting her, she would have killed him. Even though she could barely remember the fight now, she knew she’d enjoyed it. This man had taken her son, killed her husband. A bullet in the head was a kindness he didn’t deserve. After it was over something snapped inside of her. She collapsed right next to his broken corpse and sobbed her eyes out for what felt like hours. Shaun was ten. This asshole had spent more time with him than she had. Maybe even saw him take his first steps, heard his first words… And he was a mercenary. A stone cold killer. She looked around the command centre and saw the broken limbs of synths strewn across the room. Kellogg’s body sat on the ground, his blood and guts spread out over the various monitors, tables, and computers around it.

 

_And so am I._

 

Slowly, she got up and fruitlessly tried to wipe some of the blood from her clothes and armour. In a trance, she found a lift that brought her back to the roof. There was a buzzing noise originating just behind her head and following her around. She noticed the sun was just over its peak. What was more, the sky was suddenly littered with vertibirds. They were hovering around a huge airship like bees around their hive. Amplified voices seemed to extrude from them, but she couldn’t make out the words. Automatically, she calculated she’d gone without sleep for more than 24 hours now. She was at risk for impaired decision-making and light visual hallucinations. It seemed unlikely the things she was seeing in the sky were hallucinations because of their numbers and the noise, but who knew? _Okay, deep breaths. Where did I leave Dogmeat? Right, in front of the building._

 

Dogmeat was happily wagging his tail as he saw her approach. She got down on one knee and hugged the hell out of that fur ball. He sniffed her face and tried to lick away some of the dried blood still on her face.

 

“Let’s go, boy.” She looked at the sky again, and suddenly felt very vulnerable. “Hopefully, someone in Sanctuary knows what the hell is going on.”

 

Dogmeat frolicked in front of her as she headed north. Hardly any of the buildings around her still had roofs, and the plants had slowly started reclaiming them. There was still some furniture standing around, but she was too exhausted to search it. As the sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky she traversed the wasteland between her and Sanctuary Hills. She barely noticed her surroundings, but sneaking had become such a second nature to her that the wildlife around her got about as much wind of her as she did of them. Her feet were getting heavier with each step and in her peripheral vision small lights seemed to be moving around. _Light visual hallucinations. Right. That’s more like what I expected._ At least the skies were calm again. At one point she wondered if she should just curl up against one of the dead trees, with Dogmeat to keep her warm. But no, better to just go on, Sanctuary and a bed weren’t so far now.

 

The sun was setting when she crossed the bridge into Sanctuary. She came upon Codsworth patrolling the perimeter, a duty he’d volunteered for to Preston.

 

“How goes it, mum? Have you found out anything about young Shaun and that ne'er-do-well Kellogg?” He inquired.

 

“Just… Not now, Codsworth. Sleep first.”

 

“Of course, mum. Please call me if there is anything I can do to lighten the load.” His visual scanners gave her a once over. “Some refreshments, or a change of clothing perhaps?”

 

“Later, Codsworth…”

 

But instead of going to her bed, she walked to her old house. There, in a back room, stood Shaun’s crib. She lowered herself against a wall until she was sitting on the floor with her head in her hands, facing that crib, and felt utterly empty. She could hear Codsworth lingering outside of the house and pressed her fists against her temples. A constant pounding had added itself to the buzzing sound.

 

“Heeey, Coddlewobble! Any word on your mistress, you old rust bucket?”

 

She’d recognize that voice anywhere, the gruffness, the edge of sarcasm, the undercurrent that sounded almost like a snigger.

 

“As a matter of fact she has just returned, mister Deacon. And looking quite weary, if I may add. I’m unsure of what to do.”

 

 _That’s really great Codsworth. I wonder why I’d look weary._ She massaged her forehead in an attempt to clear her head.

 

“Really? Where is she? Did she say anything?”

 

All the glee had gone from his voice, he actually sounded worried now.

 

Shit.

 

“She went into the house, mister Deacon. Oh, and she really looked very dishevelled! But she said she needed rest, so we’d better just leave her be…”

 

“It’s okay, Codsworth. I’ll just go check on her. You just go on and finish making the rounds. If you see any Knights, call Preston.”

 

“Thank you ever so much, mister Deacon. You may throw around witticisms, but you truly are a gentleman at heart. I know you’ll look after her.”

 

Well, wasn’t that just what she needed? Fun, light-hearted Deacon would’ve been better. She felt a pang in her insides. The last thing she wanted right now was sympathy. And what was that about knights? The thought of men in armour riding horses through the Commonwealth made her giggle. Fuck, she really was coming apart at the seams.

 

Within seconds she saw the familiar flicker of the last sunlight reflecting in Deacon’s sunglasses from the doorway. Always with the sunglasses. He wasn’t wearing a wig or a hat this time, just his bald head and a regular t-shirt and jeans. She wondered if he felt safe here, walking around without a disguise.

 

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

 

Was he actually holding a bottle and two glasses?

 

_I take it all back. This man deserves awards. Flowers. Parades. A statue._

 

“Nothing.”

 

As he approached her his face remained expressionless. Usually he would wear an irreverent smirk whenever she saw him.

 

“I look that bad, huh?”

 

Another flash of sunglasses as he gave her another once-over.

 

“A little worn around the edges. I’ve seen worse. Your blood?” he asked as he filled the two glasses and gave her one. She downed the whole damn glass. _Ugh. Vodka._

 

“Kellogg’s.” She answered, and held up her glass for a refill. He exhaled sharply and suddenly seemed incrementally more relaxed, but hesitated a moment before filling her glass again.

 

“Everything looks better through the bottom of a glass, doesn’t it.”

 

It wasn’t really a question, so she didn’t answer. Instead she took a sip from her vodka. She was still sitting with her back against the wall, Deacon squatted awkwardly next to her. She took another sip.

 

“Codsworth wasn’t kidding. You really look a mess.” He looked around for something, didn’t find it and, unexpectedly, took off his shirt. Settling down beside her, he poured a little vodka onto a corner of the t-shirt and began wiping blood and grime from her face, pausing whenever she drank from her glass. When he moved on to her arms, removing pieces of armour along the way, she finished her glass and gave herself another refill. Somehow his actions were a serious assault on those walls she’d put up, but instead of running or being sarcastic, the vodka lulled her into a sense of warm security.

 

Deacon was warm and comforting next to her, and she was almost starting to feel relaxed. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes. He had a kind of unassuming look, which she guessed served him well in his line of work. But sitting next to her without a t-shirt she could see he was actually nicely toned. Masculine. Attractive.

 

“I knew you were under there somewhere. Well, that is totally ruined.” He smirked as he looked at his t-shirt and threw it in a corner. “You checking me out, _Blue_? Don’t worry, I know I have that effect on people.”

 

As she swirled the vodka in her glass trying very hard not to blush or say something _very_ vulgar, Deacon gazed across the room until his eyes settled on the crib and then flashed towards his bloody t-shirt. He cleared his throat. “So, I guess there won’t be an interrogation?”

 

“He was working for the Institute. They have him… They have Shaun, Deacon.” The last sentence tore itself from her throat, and all the emptiness and hurt came rushing back in, gathering in the pit in her stomach. She was glad Deacon always wore those sunglasses, that way she didn’t have to see the pity in his eyes as he looked at her.

 

“At least that means he’s still alive, right? We’ll find him, Prof.”

 

His hand clumsily reached for her leg, attempting to offer consolation he didn’t know how to give with words.

 

“You don’t understand Deacon. Shit, they’ve had him for _ten_ years! A few fucking months ago I held my baby in my arms, _and now he’s ten years old, raised by a mercenary, and with those shits at the Institute…_ He was right there Dee, in that crib…” He grabbed her shoulders and before she knew it, she was draped across his chest with his fingers on her neck.

 

“Hey, hey, Blue. It’s going to be okay. It will all turn out alright… I promise.”

 

 _There it was. Fucking shitty sympathy._ She just felt so angry, so lost, and all he was doing by being kind was making it real. _I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to see it on his face._ At that moment she surrendered and just let it out. With her face pressed against his neck, she cried and he caressed the back of hers and softly whispered reassurances to her.

 

When her sobs calmed down he stopped whispering but kept holding her and stroking the back of her neck. She felt a little better, but there was still a ball of tension curled up in her innards, with tendrils that made her skin crawl. Nothing had really changed. She broke the embrace to pick up her glass and take a sip. Deacon let go reluctantly, and when she looked at him she was almost startled to see he had taken off his sunglasses. The sunlight was completely gone by now so she couldn’t see the colour of his eyes, just two pools of darkness. What she saw in those pools wasn’t pity.

 

He looked at her with bashful lust, and right now it felt like a call of oblivion. To drown in her vodka, in those eyes, and not face any of this horrible fucking reality she’d found herself in? _Fucking Heaven._ The words left her mouth before she even knew it. “Do you want me, Deacon?”

 

Something in him seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he drew her close to him and replied jokingly. “Whatever gave you that idea, _Blue_? I think you’re projecting.”

 

Shit, when he came in all she’d wanted was for him to joke and act like nothing in the world could even touch them. But now she was drunk, he had made her vulnerable by comforting her, and she could hear the huskiness in his voice, see the look in his eyes. She didn’t care for these games anymore. She just needed him to drown out the fucking pain.

 

In one move she’d straddled his lap, had her hands on his neck, her mouth on his lips. She tasted the vodka there, explored his chapped lips with her tongue before speaking.

 

“Please, Deacon, don’t play with me now. I need you…” The vodka and desperateness pushed the sentence over her lips, right next to his ear. “I need you to fuck me until I forget my name. Forget /everything/ but you and me.”

 

She could feel his readiness beneath her. The light tone had faded completely from his voice as he rasped. “Who’s playing here, Blue.” He grasped her hips and moved her along his erection, eliciting a gasp from her. “Just tell me what you need.” His hands on her back, she was grinding up against him, dragging her hands across the rasp of his day old shave. He was unbuttoning her shirt, but she stopped him, got up and dropped her trousers and underwear.

 

_No more fucking sympathy. No more sweetness._

 

She picked a wall on the far side of the room, away from the crib, away from anything that could remind her of anything she didn’t want to remember. Giving him one more look, as he was still sitting awkwardly in his trousers with a visible erection, she turned away, placed her hand against the wall and unceremoniously spread her legs for him. He seemed to take a moment so she softly moaned. “Deacon, please…” And he was up behind her.

 

Carefully he slid his hand between her legs and felt the wetness of her vulva. As his fingers slid forward to her nub she almost hissed. _Not more fucking gentleness._ “Deacon… Just…” He pulled his hand back and replaced it with his cock a second later. She was trembling, her legs shaking unsteadily as he slowly breached her. A final whispered plead from her side and he was fully inside her, pounding into her, slow at first, but picking up the pace as she held onto the wall and slammed herself onto him with every thrust.

 

This was what she’d needed.

 

He grasped at her hips and buried his face in the back of her neck as she enveloped him. She heard his breath quickening, the sopping sounds as he entered her, then it all faded away in the white, drunken light of bliss. Her insides spasmed, clenched, and after a final few thrusts he retreated from her and spilled himself on the floor.

 

For a second they just stood there. He, again, a bit bashful. She feeling like she might cry again. He picked up his underwear. She just felt empty, exhausted, and even while holding the wall she almost fell over. “Fuck!” Deacon exclaimed. That, and him rushing to hold her, sent her into a giggle.

 

“Yeah, yeah, real funny. Have I told you what a piece of work you are?” His voice had that wonderful ring of light-heartedness again, although his eyes seemed… Hurt? He picked her up completely and carried her to the mattresses in the next room over. He even went back for their trousers.

 

“Time for sleep now, beautiful.” He laid down beside her and put an arm around her. She was barely conscious. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered what this meant to him. She didn’t even know what it meant to herself. It could wait until tomorrow. Everything could wait.

 

Just before she actually fell asleep, she mumbled. “Thank you Dee…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Like where this is going? Don't? Let me know? Or else, you know, running away is always an option! I won't shoot you.
> 
> Promise.


	3. Spirit in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon struggles with what happened the night before. He and the Professor go and see her Brotherhood contact to find out more about the Brotherhood's arrival in the Commonwealth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post "Reunions" Brotherhood questline spoilers ahead. Or maybe not really, but they're coming. Also some references to Deacon's background. All canon (apart from his relationship with SS that is).
> 
> Titlesong: [Norman Greenbaum - _Spirit in the sky_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZQxH_8raCI)

It was early when Deacon woke up, his head feeling like he’d just been through a radstorm. Parched. Fuck, what did he get up to last night? The springs of the mangy mattress he was lying on were poking uncomfortably in his back, but when he tried to sit upright the whole room was suddenly spinning around him.

 

_I’ll never, ever drink vodka again. From now on, it’s just Gwinnet Stouts for me._

 

The lie almost made him laugh. He’d been drinking pretty heavily since the Professor went after Kellogg, even to his standards. Wait.

 

_The Professor._

 

Memories of the night before were slowly coming back to him. He’d been bored, and had finally managed to pester Garvey into playing a game of Caravan with him. As he’d expected, the Minuteman was not exactly good at anticipating his strategy. Deacon had managed to get his second caravan up to a perfect 26 by playing a Joker that also happened to reduce the highest bid on Garvey’s caravans to 15. In his next turn he’d managed to sell all three of his caravans, two with a value of 26 and the last one for 22. Already pretty drunk he’d been rubbing it in badly, and Garvey had walked away mumbling about liars and cheaters, which he found endlessly amusing. Messing with a guy like that was almost too easy.

 

He frowned as he tried to remember what had happened after.

 

Wandering around Sanctuary with his bottle of vodka, he’d run into Codsworth, who had told him the Professor was back. He’d picked up two glasses, figuring she could use a drink after dealing with Kellogg. As his head was clearing up more and more details came back to him. He moaned quietly.

 

The Professor, _Blue_ , being in shambles after killing the man who took her son and murdered her husband. That heart clenching moment when he’d thought she was covered in her own blood. The relief he’d felt when he’d cleaned off the worst, and she was barely hurt. Physically speaking, that is.

 

Fuck. Her son was taken ten years ago.

 

She’d broken down right in fucking front of him, crying in his arms. He’d wanted desperately to do something to ease her pain. His eyes shot open. Had they… Was he absolutely sure he hadn’t just fallen into a drunken stupor and only dreamed about her returning and him fucking her against a wall in her son’s room?

 

He carefully extended his arm and felt next to him, holding his breath, not daring to look.

 

_Definitely someone there._

 

He rolled onto his side to see who it was. Tangled blue hair on a pillow. A bare back on which he could clearly see hand prints in the grime he’d failed to entirely remove. He carefully placed his hand over the print on her right hip. Yeah, no doubts there. She grumbled under his touch but didn’t wake up.

 

He sank back into his pillow and allowed himself to recall the rest of the night. The moment she’d asked him if he wanted her he’d been done for. That uncharacteristically vulnerable look in her eyes, like she’d be destroyed if he rejected her. The way she’d begged him to fuck her. Like she needed him. Of course she didn’t; she couldn’t, not really. She’d just needed part of him. But he’d been drunk enough to imagine… Maybe even to hope.

 

Of course, she’d been pretty drunk too. Looking back now, someone who really cared about her probably wouldn’t have gone through with it. Wouldn’t have taken advantage. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. He was such a fucking idiot. He was just a useless loser who’d happened to be in the right place at the right time. Here he’d been lost in selfish wallowing over her for days, he should be fucking happy about this. He both got his wish, and got to make life momentarily easier for her. At least he hoped he did. Just two people taking comfort in each other But he shouldn’t fool himself into thinking he deserved it. Somewhere in him a gnawing started. Despite his own reassurances he feared he’d let her down. She’d been drunk, hurt, vulnerable, and he’d let his selfish fucking desires get in the way of actually being there for her, of protecting her.

 

_If getting drunk is how people forget their problems, a hangover sure fucking makes you remember._

 

Feeling sick to his stomach, he got out of bed and put on some of the clothes lying on the ground. Some water and food would help him think. He grabbed his sunglasses and Stetson, unwilling to look anyone he might encounter outside directly in the eye.

 

Shuffling outside, he realized that, apparently, it was still early, because the only ones he could see were Codsworth and Dogmeat. Of course they noticed him in a heartbeat.

 

“Good morning, mister Deacon. Up bright and early, are we?”

 

“Yes, Codsworth. I’ve actually already done a hundred jumping jacks before coming outside. You know me and my morning routine! Just warming up a bit before I start my daily decathlon.” He rolled his eyes. Man, he hated anyone who could be so cheerful in the morning.

 

“Always so droll, mister Deacon. Is my mistress up yet?”

 

Dogmeat was sniffing at his trousers, and started rubbing against his legs and wagging its tail. That dog was too perceptive for its own good. Good thing it can’t talk.

 

“I’m afraid not.” He felt unsteady on his feet, and was very tempted to skip the whole water thing in favour of more liquor. At least the robot either didn’t notice anything off, or wasn’t being judgemental about it.

 

“That’s quite alright sir, she needs her rest. Can I interest you in some breakfast? Mirelurk omelettes, perhaps?” Codsworth spun around and headed for the common room.

 

“That would be… pretty great, actually.”

 

Deacon followed Codsworth, Dogmeat at his heels. After breakfast and three pints of water he felt a bit better. He resolved to not let this thing that had happened change his relationship with the Professor. Hopefully she wouldn’t be angry with him, and they could forget it had ever happened. Or at least act like it hadn’t. He knew damn well he wouldn’t forget, but he couldn’t let his feelings for her get in the way.

 

Not again.

 

As Codsworth was cleaning up the dishes, Deacon leaned back in his chair and listened to the radio. Travis, Diamond City Radio’s host, was mumbling unintelligibly as always. He sounded even more anxious than usual. Deacon tried to decipher what the disc jockey was rambling on about while lighting a cigarette. Right. The Brotherhood of Steel. Deacon sighed.

 

Back in the Capitol Wasteland he’d had a few run-ins with the Brotherhood. Under Elder Lyons they’d been a force for good, protecting innocent people from Super Mutants and other dangers. But he didn’t think the rest of the Brotherhood necessarily agreed with Lyons sentiments on civilian lives. If his intel was up-to-date, the East Coast branch was under command of Arthur Maxson, the youngest elder in the history of the Brotherhood, and a descendent of the Maxson, the founder. With a background like his, it didn’t surprise Deacon one bit the guy had a reputation for being a fanatic. Most likely, he was aboard that airship.

 

As Deacon pressed his cigarette in a nearby ashtray he saw a flash of blue hair in the doorway.

 

“Mistress, you're up! And looking much better if I may add. I have saved you some lovely mirelurk omelettes.”

 

Deacon observed the robot swerving towards the Professor, it’s three limbs in a flutter. Bing Crosby’s smooth voice advising everyone to accentuate the positive echoed through the room. _Come on Deacon, this is your moment. Say something smooth that will make her feel comfortable._ Instead he just saw flashes of her offering herself to him, her lips parting to say his name. Fuck.

 

“Yes please, you flatterer. I’ve got a hangover the size of a deathclaw, and the appetite of one too.” She almost sounded happy, especially for someone nursing a hangover the size of a deathclaw.

 

“Immediately, mum.”

 

The Professor walked towards his table, and from behind his sunglasses he felt safe enough to study how she looked. She’d freshened up at the stream by the looks of it, because her hair was still damp and he didn’t see any of his hand prints on her arms. She was wearing her ratty skirt again, which made her look both sexy and tough. He could almost believe she was only bothered by a hangover. That was so like her, putting on a brave face for the benefit of those around her.

 

“Mind if I join?” She gestured towards the table he was sitting at. He took a deep breath.

 

Act normal. Like nothing has happened.

 

“Sure. No company like the company of intelligent women.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Are you mauling Tolstoy again? If so, please get it right.” She sat down and took a cigarette from the pack on the table.

 

“You’ve read War and Peace?”

 

“Of course, Deacon. Before I met you I had tons of free time to read up on the classics and loiter about. Now, not so much.”

 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “And here I was hoping I could borrow your copy. It’s one of my _favourites_.” They were both laughing now, and Deacon was surprised at how normal it felt.

 

The Professor snickered. “We should totally start a book club.”

 

He could just imagine it. “Oh yeah, that would be great. A chem addicted pre-cog, two mourning parents, a robot, and Garvey. Oh and Sturges, of course, can’t forget him! I’m sure they’re really into reading some classics, you know?”

 

“I was thinking of Nick and Piper, actually. I have a house in Diamond City now, you know?”

 

The implications of them together in a house somewhere totally derailed his train of thought. Thankfully Codsworth was there with the Professor’s omelettes, providing a very welcome distraction. As soon as she got the plate she was tearing in to them like a feral ghoul. She didn’t seem angry with him, at least. Could things really go back to normal this easily?

 

In between devouring her food she inquired. “So do I really remember some giant airship flying in yesterday? I mean, I was kinda out of it, but…”

 

 _Right._ There were practical problems which needed their attention.

 

“Yeah, that actually happened. Brotherhood of Steel.”

 

He was a little distracted by what she’d just said. How much did she remember of last night?

 

“Well, aren’t you mister intel? Is that all you’ve got?”

 

“As far as I can tell that airship is the Prydwen, the Brotherhood’s command centre here on the East Coast. I haven’t seen it before, though. The Elder in command here is most likely aboard. You haven’t heard anything from your contact?” She was shovelling the last bits of omelette into her mouth.

 

“Who, Danse? No, he didn’t mention they’d be flying in in their crazy air tank with their speakers blaring and vertibirds buzzing around. You’d think I’d be invited to the party, or at least get a heads up, after what I did for him.”

 

“Just add it to the list titled ‘Reasons to dislike Danse’.”

 

He’d only met the man once, after the Professor had taken Deacon along to search for a missing recon team. A perfect soldier, willing to engage in violence without question as long as the order came from up high, and with an air of superiority when it came to ‘civilians’. Exactly the kind of person Deacon couldn’t stand. Sometimes it seemed that as long as the Professor couldn’t help herself, she’d be helping every single other person she came across for good measure, whether they deserved it or not.

 

“So it’s obvious who we should go see.” She was looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Well that’s another day of relaxation out of the window. I’ll get my gear ready. You coming?”

 

This woman sure knew how to confuse him. He’d wanted to act like nothing had happened, but now that she did it, it felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know where he stood.

 

_Deal with it Deacon. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s her good right._

 

*                      *                      *

 

Before long they headed out, Dogmeat running before them, sniffing out any potential trouble along the way. It seemed like there wasn’t any trouble to be found, until they approached College Square.

 

While lining up some shots on the ghouls that were out in the open, the Professor whispered “Where the hell do these ferals keep coming from? I feel like I’ve taken out a small village’s worth already.” Damn, she was fast. In an instant four bodies were falling to the ground.

 

“You do realize Boston was a city, right? A big city. Plenty of people to ghoulify.” He responded. They both took out a ghoul that had wandered out in response to the bodies falling, and Dogmeat was taking care of a third. Nothing seemed to have actually noticed them crouching in the shadows yet.

 

“No kidding. I used to come shopping here, you know? The lines in the shopping malls were huge.”

 

Deacon shot the last ghoul in sight in the head, and turned to her. “We make this look easy.”

 

Then he saw the horrified look on her face. She was aiming her pistol right at his head. Before he realised exactly what was going on, he felt a sharp tearing pain in his left shoulder. He also heard the ticking of the Geiger counter in the Professor’s Pip-boy, interrupted by three soft pops and followed by a horrible smell, and a warm, wet feeling all over the left side of his head and shoulder.

 

“Yuck.”

 

He shivered and tried to wipe away some of the goo that had escaped from the Glowing One’s exploding head. He was covered in the stuff, glowing like some sort of human Christmas tree. The Professor came running up to him.

 

“You okay?”

 

She sounded worried. He was still wrapping his head around what had just happened.

 

“That fucker tried to chomp on me!”

 

“I noticed. Think he succeeded, too. Let me see.”

She carefully pushed him down to the ground and started taking off the armour on his arm and his pack. He heard her gasp as she shoved the sleeve of his t-shirt aside. A ripping noise, and she was tying a piece of her own shirt around his arm.

“We better get to Cambridge Police Station. This will take more than a minute to fix.” She grabbed a Stimpak from one of the pockets of her bag and stabbed him with it.

“You okay?” she asked again.

“I’ll live.”

She helped him up, careful to not put pressure on his wound. Deacon felt a sudden need to jest, to lighten the severe atmosphere. He pushed all his confounding feelings for her away, and continued in his best sarcastic voice.

“Wow, Blue, you really care, don’t you?”

She was back to rolling her eyes at him. “Yeah. I know, I know, I’m such a sentimental idiot. Not long for this world, et cetera. I would just blame myself if I robbed the Railroad of their much needed intelligence agent. Come on.”

 

Deacon gritted his teeth and was secretly glad she picked up his pack as well as her own. Good thing she hadn’t collected too much junk yet. Together they slowly traversed the square. Dogmeat took care of the lone ghoul that was still dormant between cars, and the Professor took down another two that came rushing towards them. When they reached the far end of the square Deacon turned to the Professor.

 

“Could we just deal with this here? I don’t relish the thought of being treated for my injuries under the nose of that Paladin.”

She looked at him sideways like she was going to say something, but thought the better of it and put down their packs.

“Dogmeat, keep an eye out for any stragglers will you?”

The dog whined knowingly and put its nose to the ground. The Professor gathered some supplies from her pack, her back turned towards him. Looking at her distracted him from the pain in his shoulder. Even in a simple shirt and combat boots covered with pieces of armour that didn’t match, she was beautiful. Her blue hair was mostly tucked away in her combat helmet, exposing her neck, which immediately reminded him of how he saw it last night. Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking like this right now, but it was such a damn good distraction.

 

_No, Deacon. The here and now._

 

For a moment he saw her neck tense up, then she turned around. She was holding some bandages, wonderglue, and a bottle of vodka.

 

“Are we sniffing glue and boozing now, Blue? Not really the time for a party.”

“If you don’t want to go inside, this is the best I can do. Come here.”

He sat down and she squatted to his left, removing the piece of cloth and drenching it in vodka.

“This is gonna sting a bit.” She warned. The Professor cleaned out the wound with copious amounts of vodka.

Deacon shook his head. “What a waste.”

He tried not to groan too much. When she was satisfied there was no more irradiated blood, brain or dirt in the wound she grabbed the glue. He quickly snatched up the bottle of vodka and took a swig.

“This should keep the wound closed and clean. Just hope it doesn’t get infected.”

He looked at his shoulder. She was keeping the wound closed, waiting for the glue to dry.

“That’s kind of disturbing. No sparkles to cheer it up? Wait, got a better idea: Small pictures of kittens playing with balls of wool. Doesn’t get cuter than that, right?”

The Professor didn’t laugh. She gingerly felt if the glue was dry, and started bandaging his shoulder. Deacon started feeling uneasy. One minute they were joking, the next she couldn’t be tempted to even smile. He questioned whether he should have broached the subject that morning. Fuck. He was such a coward.

 

He didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if he’d fucked this up. He knew it wasn’t right for him to be with someone again, not after what he’d done and what had happened to Barbara. But traveling the Commonwealth with the Professor gave him the feeling that he was doing something good, at least as much as working for the Railroad did. He brought the bottle back to his lips again, felt the burning in the pit of his stomach as he swallowed. She just looked at him, face unreadable, until she spoke. “Think you’re ready to go in now?”

“Yeah, Prof, about that. What exactly is our objective here?” He gestured towards the police station.

“Listen, I know you have your trepidations about the Brotherhood. We talked about this after Danse tried to enlist me. But they’re here in force now, and I can’t think of a better way to learn why. If it’s possible, I’ll go to their ship with Danse, scope the place out, learn what their plans are. You take Dogmeat with you, you can use the backup right now.” She saw the grim look on his face and misinterpreted it as him disapproving. “I won’t do anything for them that I wouldn’t do on my own anyway, Deacon.”

He sighed. He needed to say something, something real, before they were neck deep in Brotherhood and there wouldn’t be a chance. She’d repacked their bags and slung them over her shoulder, ready to move on. He grabbed her arm.

“Listen, Prof… Blue.” He shook his head. “You, I trust. Your judgement too. But they have a lot of bodies and a lot of high-tech gizmos, and we don’t know anything about their intentions here. Just… Be careful, okay?”

 

She gave him a sad half smile and nodded. He followed her as they rounded the last corner to Cambridge Police Station. He couldn’t really argue with her sending him away, but it felt shitty regardless.

 

A few Knights and Scribes were busy outside of the station, and directed them to Paladin Danse as they passed. Inside, Danse barely acknowledged Deacon, instead turning to the Professor and inquiring. “Are you ready to go up there?”

 

Deacon chuckled internally. Good. The Paladin didn’t like him. The guy was about as subtle as a Super Sledge. As the Professor asked Danse for the reason behind the arrival of the Prydwen, Deacon let his eyes wander around the room. There was a lot more activity than the last time he’d been here. Danse wasn’t giving them anything concrete, until Deacon heard.

“If she’s here, Elder Maxson’s here. And that means we’re going to war.”

Deacon’s eyes crossed with the Professor’s and he frowned behind his sunglasses. War. Yeah, nobody innocent ever gets hurt in war. Was the Brotherhood planning to take on the Institute? How many people would get caught between those crosshairs? The Professor asked a few more questions, and Danse responded with typical Brotherhood propaganda. Maxson’s the Brotherhood’s gift to humanity, blah, blah, blah. He’s probably never had an original thought in his life.

The Professor came up to Deacon. “They have a vertibird ready on the roof.”

She hardly looked at him.

“I think I’ll check in at HQ, see what the word is.”

“I’ll come see you there, after. Might check in in Diamond City on the way.”

 

She turned to Dogmeat. “Hey, boy, all these airships are no place for a dog. You keep an eye on Deacon, keep him safe, and I’ll come get you soon, okay?”

She scratched the dog behind his ears and straightened her back.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

She followed Danse to the roof, and Deacon left the station with Dogmeat. He was glad for the company. He stroked the dog’s head. This way, I know she’ll come see me. She’d never leave that dog anywhere without the intention of picking him up again. The thought sparked a very small ember of hope in his chest. He tried to ignore it, to deny it, but could feel its glow regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Like where this is going? Don't? Let me know? Or else, you know, running away is always an option! I won't shoot you.
> 
> Promise.


	4. Cocoon Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor investigates that airship & visits friends in Diamond City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has spoilers for the quests Shadow of Steel, Tour of Duty, Show No Mercy & Confidence Man.
> 
> Titlesong: [K's Choice - _Cocoon crash_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teNNjua_eKo)

The view was amazing, that much was true.

 

Blue stood on the landing decks of the Prydwen, where a vertibird was waiting to take her back down again. The airship was docked above the remains of Boston Airport. Behind her back, the surging water of Massachusetts Bay. But she was looking at Boston, and the Commonwealth stretching out behind it. Besides a slight veil of mist it was a clear day, with blue skies that met the distant mountains at the horizon. If she didn’t look at the city too directly, squinted her eyes a bit, she could almost imagine Boston still being okay, could almost hear the faint sound of cars and people in the streets. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the breeze. What a day it had been.

 

Deep in her belly she felt a small chuckle start, and before long it had worked its way up her throat and out into the air. The few people at work on the deck looked at her, but nobody said anything.

 

_Let them watch. Apparently I’m the eyes and ears of the Brotherhood now._

 

She was still laughing. Poor bastards. They had no idea their precious Elder Maxson was utterly clueless. After arriving aboard with Danse she’d heard Maxson’s inspirational speech, in which he had divulged the Brotherhood’s main goals in the Commonwealth. They wanted to destroy the Institute. Not because they kidnapped people or treated synths like slaves, but because they had more advanced technology. He hadn’t said as much of course, but it was pretty clear. Afterwards, Maxson had bestowed the rank of Knight upon her and had given her a suit of Power Armour.

 

She’d toured the inner decks with Danse.

 

The innards of the airship were basically how she’d imagined, cramped and lacking in privacy. On the upper deck, bunk beds stood about a meter apart, each with an accompanying footlocker. She’d taken mental notes of monitors she’d need to revisit without Danse. Maybe he wouldn’t object to her reading them, but he didn’t need to know the extent of her curiosity. She had been subjected to a very weird medical exam consisting of quite personal questions. Thankfully there hadn’t been a physical, or she would’ve thrown a fit. The quartermaster, Proctor Teagan, had tried to recruit her to pressure farmers into giving the Brotherhood food. Mind you, these were farmers living in settlements she’d founded. They would probably give her the food without question. But his obvious insinuation that she should use any means necessary turned her off immediately. These people didn’t give two shits about the people on the ground. Had armies always been this way?

 

Once upon a time she’d desperately wanted to join the military. She’d trained for years, but they didn’t even let her take the tests. The closest she ever came to active duty was by marrying a soldier. As a woman she was resigned to a desk job, that’s how she got into law. Looking back at what Nate told her about his service, and more importantly what he’d neglected to tell her, armies hadn’t changed much in 200 years. The Brotherhood might not know it, but they were exactly like the people in charge that got the Big One started.

 

After meeting some of the important people on the ship, Blue and Danse had gone to clear Fort Strong of Super Mutants to secure a stockpile of mini nukes. There had even been a Behemoth. It had been a tough fight, but with the help of the minigun on board of the vertibird they’d cleared most of the area of mutants within minutes. When they’d also cleared the building and had returned to the Prydwen, Maxson had disclosed more specifics about his plan to get to the Institute: They wanted to use _her_. The only thing the Brotherhood had to go on was a signal their Scribes had picked up, emitted by the Institute’s technology.

 

She could use the Brotherhood’s resources to help her find the Institute and cut them out the minute she got sick of them.

 

 _Fucking perfect._ Deacon was going to be proud of her. She boarded the vertibird and directed the pilot to land near Diamond City. Habitually, she reached for her ring finger, to rotate the wedding band around her finger, but it wasn’t there. For a split second she felt panic take hold of her, until she reminded herself she’d taken it off that morning, after... All the giddiness she’d felt melted away like the skin of a ghoul. The difference was she was decayed on the inside instead of on the outside.

 

_I’m a widow. I haven’t cheated on Nate._

 

Her night with Deacon had had a bigger impact on her than she’d like to admit. In the moment, it had felt like all she could do to keep her world from falling apart, but what if it ended up destroying what little peace she’d managed to create for herself? Wandering around the ‘Wealth with Deacon had become a way to stay sane in this world. When she’d woken up that morning all of that had suddenly seemed very frail.

 

All of her efforts were like a game of Jenga she played by herself, removing pieces from the bottom and stacking them on the top; creating an ever-growing tower that would inevitably collapse in on itself. She sighed. She’d really loved Nate, but she’d always felt trapped in the life of a housewife. Avoiding that life had been one of the reasons she had wanted to join the army. At least practicing law had given her an outlet for her competitive nature, and a reason to get out of the house. But after Shaun’s birth Nate had started pressuring her into extending her maternity leave. He wanted her at home with their baby.

 

When she thought of it that way, she could start to understand why she often felt more at home now than in her previous life. Nobody really questioned you based on your sex when you came strolling into town from the Commonwealth with a small arsenal strapped to your back, they mostly just assumed you could hold your own. Here and now she could be a badass, maybe even a hero. She’d never had that chance back in the day.

 

Once the vertibird landed, it was only a short walk to Diamond City. Should she go see Nick right away? Blue decided against it, and walked up to Publick Occurances. She needed some girl time.

 

Nat was standing outside selling their paper. They greeted each other and Blue entered the building.

 

“Hey, what’s up Blue?” Piper’s nickname for her instantly reminded Blue of Deacon. It must have shown on her face, because Piper quickly continued. “One of those days, huh?”

 

“I’ve had a few of them, actually. It’s starting to look like one of those weeks.”

 

Piper looked her over.

 

“Come on, we’ll get something to eat and go to the Dugout.”

 

Blue followed Piper to Power Noodles, where they sat down on two bar stools.

 

“Nan-ni shimaso-ka?”

 

Piper winked at Blue, and turned to the robot proprietor of the food stall. “Why yes, Takahashi, our day has been wonderful. How is life treating you?”

 

Takahashi turned its head left and right. “Nan-ni shimaso-ka?”

 

Blue couldn’t help but laugh. She dug up her caps from her pack and started to count them out. “We’ll take two portions, Takahashi.”

 

They both ate their noodles in silence, savouring the excellent flavouring only the bot seemed capable of. When they’d finished, they headed to the Dugout Inn, where Vadim Bobrov greeted them enthusiastically.

 

“Piper, you and your friend chave come back! Come, come, first drinks are on the chouse. Alvays good to chave pretty ladies at bar. Sit, sit.”

 

Like the first time she came her with Piper, Blue wondered how the Bobrov brothers had come by their thick Russian accents. Did people still cross oceans?

 

Vadim poured three glasses of his Bobrov’s Best.

 

“Zazdaróvye!”

 

They all drank their glasses at once, Piper and Blue coughing and sputtering as they finished theirs, and Vadim laughing at them amicably.

 

“We’ll take two beers to wash that down, thanks. By the way, my friend’s name is Blue.” Piper patted Blue, who was still coughing, on her back. Vadim grinned and grabbed the beers.

 

“Really? Blue? Unusual name, yes? Chere you go, ladies. Shall I open tab for you?”

 

Piper nodded and waved him away. “We need some girl time here, Vadim.”

 

He could take a hint and walked to the other side of the bar, where he started cleaning some glasses. Blue and Piper sat, sipping from their beers, the latter shifting impatiently in her seat.

 

“So, Blue, you wanna talk about it?”

 

“Not really.”

 

That got her an incredulous look from Piper. “Fine! Just remember this is all off-the-record, Pipes. I don’t want to grab tomorrow’s paper and read all about it.”

 

Piper laughed. “I think you made that pretty clear when you lied your way through my interview once.”

 

Blue sighed and took another sip from her beer. “You know I went after Kellogg, right?”

 

Piper nodded but Blue was staring at the wall, so she responded. “That high-end merc Valentine suspects of taking Shaun?” She saw the look on Blue’s face and decided to shut up and just let her talk. Piper knew how hard it was for Blue to open up.

 

Meanwhile, Blue was wondering what she actually wanted to divulge here. So much had happened since she last saw Piper. Tears were already burning behind her eyes. Fuck.

 

“Vadim, can I get another round of shots and beers here?”

 

Bless sweet fucking Piper for knowing her so well. Vadim got them the drinks, without his trademark chitchat. Shit, she must really be obviously upset if he decided against talking. Better get this out all at once, or it wasn’t coming out at all. She drank her moonshine for Dutch courage.

 

“Kellogg took Shaun ten years ago. I killed him, Shaun’s with the Institute, then that airship arrived, I was completely out of it and drunk and slept with… someone when I was back in Sanctuary, or actually begged him to fuck me, and now I have no idea where the fuck I stand and today I went to that airship and the Brotherhood wants war with the Institute and they need my help to destroy them, and all synths.”

 

“Wow, Blue. Just… Wow. Ten years? And he’s with the Institute. Hoo boy. Those bastards.” Piper shook her head. “I know you, Blue, you’ll get him back. No power in the ‘Wealth can stop you!”

 

Blue breathed a sigh of relief. She could definitely use a pep talk better than fucking sympathy, or before she knew it she’d be crying again. She would probably end up fucking Piper too. The thought made her giggle. Or maybe it was the drinks, because Piper joined in. They just chatted for a while, about the Brotherhood, about Piper’s paper, about Diamond City and the Commonwealth. Apart from a few sideways glances from Piper, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That is, until Piper asked Blue a question.

 

“So, Blue, you and Deacon, huh? Wanna tell me about that?”

 

Blue almost spat her drink across the bar. “How the hell did you figure that out?”

 

Piper didn’t answer, but continued. “And you begged him? I feel there’s a story here, and I have a nose for stuff like that.”

 

“Fucking journalists.” Blue laid her head on the bar and covered it with her hands, then called for Vadim.

 

“Vhat can I do for you lovely ladies? More drinks, yes?” Piper nodded, and he put two new beers on the bar and cleared out the empty bottles gathered in front of them.

 

“So?” Piper looked at Blue, one eyebrow raised, slight smile around her lips.

 

“Yeah, okay. We drank a bottle of vodka, I cried, I asked him. And he did. End of story.”

 

To Blue’s surprise, Piper started laughing. “You sure it was in that order, Blue? You didn’t cry afterward?”

 

“You’re such a _bitch_ sometimes, Pipes.”

 

It took a little while for Piper to calm down again, but when she had her breath back under control and had dried her tears of laughter she asked.

 

“But what exactly is the problem then? He’s been pining for you for weeks, at least. Don’t you like him? Was it bad?” She was silent for a second, then lowered her voice. “Was it /small/?”

 

Blue shoved against Piper’s shoulder. “No! It isn’t… It wasn’t anything like that. And what do you mean, pining for me?”

 

“Oh please, Blue. You both think you’re so sneaky and secretive. Every time you’ve been here with him the guy was like your shadow. Orbiting you like he was caught in your gravity, like you were the centre of his universe. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you suddenly didn’t have any time for little old me since he came along, missy.”

 

She said the last sentence in the tone she usually reserved for when she was supposed to be disappointed in Nat, but was secretly proud.

 

“It’s just so embarrassing. I begged him, Pipes. And then when I woke up he was gone, and I thought it must’ve been a huge mistake. To him, I mean. We were both pretty drunk… He wasn’t really gone, though, just eating breakfast.”

 

“You think that’s embarrassing? Damn, you have no idea what some people get up to inside the bedroom, and out, do you? Let me guess, you both tried to act like nothing happened?”

 

“Pretty much, yeah.” Blue reached to touch her ring again, and recoiled when she remembered it wasn’t there. Of course, Piper caught that.

 

“Oh, Blue, don’t tell me that you feel guilty. It’s been what, six months? Maybe that wasn’t much back in your day, but now… He’s dead. Any of us could be, too. Today, tomorrow, who can say? Take every second you can get, you deserve it!”

 

Blue looked Piper in the eyes. “You really think so?”

 

“Yeah! Okay, I don’t know if a pathological liar is the best choice to make, but that part’s up to you.” They laughed.

 

“Thanks for that ringing endorsement, Pipes.”

 

“Hey, you know me, spreader of truths.”

 

At the other end of the bar Vadim was arguing with his brother Yefim. The bar was mostly empty now. Vadim turned to the two women.

 

“Tell me. Diamond City Radio – It’s terrible, yes? Makes you vant to cut your own ears off?”

 

Blue shook her head. “Not really, no. Why?”

 

“Travis, the host, is friend of ours. Che is a good guy, but lacks in… confidence. I chave plan to chelp him. You ever been in bar fight?”

 

Blue and Piper looked at each other.

 

“We can hold our own. But how will a fight help Travis?”

 

Vadim explained. “Tomorrow, you come back. Travis will be chere. I chire some tough guys, yes? Than you chelp Travis fight them, and che feels better about chimself.” He looked at them triumphantly.

 

Piper chuckled. “I guess it makes some weird sort of sense.”

 

“Sure, why not. What could go wrong?”

 

Tomorrow she’d go visit Nick. Without any real leads, that wasn’t something she was looking forward to. Maybe a fistfight would be just the thing she needed. They agreed on a time, and she and Piper left to go to their respective beds.

 

“See you tomorrow, Blue.”

 

“Good night, Pipes.”

 

*                      *                      *

 

Blue was pretty sure she’d had crazy dreams, waking up completely tangled in her sheets, but she couldn’t really remember anything. It was halfway through the afternoon so, full of trepidation, she went to see Nick Valentine. When she arrived, Nick, Piper, and Ellie Perkins (Nick’s assistant), were already there. Nick turned to Blue.

 

“Piper was just telling us you’d returned. Where’s your son? What happened?”

 

Blue recounted what had happened for the third time. Nobody knew of a way to get inside the Institute, or even where to look, until Nick had an idea.

 

“Look, there’s this place in Goodneighbour called the Memory Den. Relive the past moments in your mind as clear as the day they happened. If anyone could get a dead brain to sing, it’ll be doctor Amari, the mind behind the memories.”

 

“I’ve been there! But, well… there’s something I haven’t told you yet. Kellogg had electrical doodads in his head. I stashed them in a fridge back in Sanctuary so I could get them looked at later. There seemed to be… brain attached. Think that will be enough, Nick?”

 

“Cybernetics, huh? We may have just won the lottery.”

 

They agreed she’d meet Nick at a later date in the Memory Den, after she’d picked up the cybernetic parts she’d taken from Kellogg’s brain. For now, Blue and Piper went back to the Dugout Inn to see about a bar fight.

 

“I can’t believe you’re really doing this.” Piper laughed.

 

“Hey, sister, you’re right here with me. Besides, always do sober what you said you’d do drunk…”

 

“That will teach you to keep your mouth shut! I know, it’s just… Poor Travis.”

 

Inside they both ordered a beer and waited. When Travis showed up, two nasty looking guys called Bull and Gouger started hassling him about his radio show. When Travis hardly showed more response than some stuttering, Blue stepped in.

 

“Hey, Travis, is everything okay?”

 

“D-does it look okay? Because… no, it’s not.”

 

She smiled. Despite his stuttering and timid demeanour, it wasn’t the response of someone without confidence. If it was already in there, if it just needed a boost, this could actually work.

 

“Why not just stand up to them? Come on, Travis, you know who I am. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

 

Piper was still standing at the bar, paying close attention but not interfering until it would be necessary.

 

“Well, i-if you think it would work.”

 

Travis started talking back to Bull, telling him to back off, but he wasn’t having any of it. Blue sized the two men up. Bull was big, his leather jacket looked two sizes too small on him. He probably knew how to throw a punch, but he’d be slow and, judging from his lazy insults, arrogant. Gouger on the other hand hadn’t said a word. She focussed on him. With a name like that, he’d probably have some nasty tricks up his sleeve. As long as Travis could dodge Bull for a few minutes, they’d be okay. And, also, there was Piper.

 

When Bull said something about making a mistake and destroying them, she was ready. She faced Bull, pretending to look for an opening there, but she followed Gouger in her peripheral vision. He lunged at her. She saw it coming, turned towards him and connected her fist with his nose with a very satisfying crack. Blood gushed from Gouger’s now broken nose, and he staggered backwards, grasping at his face.

 

Then, Bull was on her back and she toppled over. He was trying to get her arms behind her, but she wrestled back. Fuck, she was lying face first in a pool of Gouger’s blood and beer with at least 200 pounds of Bull on top of her. This was basically the pure essence of bar fights.

 

She heard Piper yell. “Do something, Travis!”

 

_Good, Pipes, eyes on the prize._

 

Travis screamed at the top of his lungs. Then, Bull’s dead weight was on her, pieces of stone and earth falling on the floor around her. Piper was almost hysterical with laughter while she and Vadim helped get Bull, who was unconscious, off her. Travis looked at them with wide eyes, stammering the same sentence over and over.

 

“I ca-ca-can’t believe I just d-did that…”

 

Vadim slapped him on the shoulder. “Neither can I, friend.”

 

Blue got up, happy to be breathing freely again, and looked around her. Travis had used one of the large potted plants standing on the floor to knock out Bull. “Wow, Travis, thank you! You really saved my bacon there. How do you feel?”

 

That seemed to snap him out of it.

 

“I-I don’t know… I mean, w-wow… Just… Wow. I n-never thought I could do… Well, anything like that! That was crazy! Wow. I-I, uhh… Thanks. That was, well, it was really something. I-I think maybe I should go lie down now.”

 

Without waiting for any response he started shuffling towards the door. Vadim was already pouring them drinks at the bar. The rest of the evening was somewhat of a blur for Blue. Maybe she hit her head when Bull took her down. Or it was the drinking. Regardless, she didn’t remember going to bed when she awoke to Piper banging on her door the next morning.

 

“Blue! Bluee! They took Vadim!”

 

Within minutes Blue was outside, still fastening her armour. They went by Travis’, he volunteered to come along, and they set out for Beantown Brewery. The three of them took Bull, Gouger and their buddies out before they’d even been spotted, thanks to the silenced pistols Blue had handed out. Travis seemed both truly relieved Vadim was unharmed, and changed by the experience. Even Vadim seemed to have gained some more respect for him. He invited them all back to the bar to celebrate, but Blue declined. She’d been drinking plenty the last few days. It was time to get her head back in the game. Preston most likely knew of settlers that needed her help urgently, and she had brains to deliver to Goodneighbour.

 

Back in Diamond City, Piper followed her to her front door.

 

“So, Blue, no drinks? You leaving again?”

 

“Yeah, it’s time, Pipes. Listen, thanks for… for being here. I think I needed this.”

 

“Don’t mention it, that’s what besties are for. What’s the plan?”

 

Blue smiled. “First, I’m going to get Dogmeat. Then, picking up the package in Sanctuary. Probably some Minutemen-business to take care of, too.”

 

Piper cocked that eyebrow of hers.

 

“Picking up Dogmeat, huh? You sure you’re not picking up some other meat? Bald, hunky, man meat maybe?”

 

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

 

“No way! Talk to him, Blue. You deserve it. Maybe he even does, too.”

 

“Maybe trees deserve rain, Piper. Doesn’t mean they’re gonna get it.”

 

“Geesh, you so deserve each other. Although, all that sarcasm might create some sort of event horizon, and the rest of us could end up unable to ever use sarcasm again.” She looked at Blue and smiled. “You take care of yourself, Blue. And come see me sometime, yeah?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get back to Deacon in the next chapter I think. We'll see. I hope you liked it & thanks for reading!
> 
> Like where this is going? Don't? Let me know? Or else, you know, running away is always an option! I won't shoot you.
> 
> Promise.


	5. Wish You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon waits for the Professor. Also, they catch up. He has a hard time with most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a few railroad sidequests are mentioned in passing, and if the minutemen sidequest CAN still be spoiled for you; be warned. It's one of the generic ones, though.
> 
> Titlesong: [Pink Floyd - _Wish you were here_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXdNnw99-Ic)

Had HQ always been this boring?

 

Deacon seemed to remember enjoying coming back there once. Now he had hardly been back a day and he was already suffering from cabin fever.

 

He’d tried exchanging war stories with Glory - he finally had some new ones, after all -, but she had no appreciation for his subtlety, and he had no patience for her brazenness. He’d tried to strike up a conversation with Tinker Tom, but like always it had devolved into him goading Tinker into spinning grander and grander webs of potential Institute conspiracies. It was fun for a while, but quickly lost its lustre. He’d talked with Drummer Boy for a while, but now he was up-to-date with the status of all safe houses, and Drummer was off running errands. Desdemona and P.A.M. were so busy they hardly acknowledged him, as were the few other agents around HQ. He’d even contemplated talking to Carrington. Now he was busy cataloguing their stockpile of weapons, ammunition, medicine, and food.

 

Glory and Dez had both given him the side eye when they saw what he was doing. Of course, they wouldn’t complain; it needed to be done and it kept him off their backs. But they knew something was up.

 

_I just need to keep myself busy._

 

He doubled down on counting the .50 bullets.

 

135… 140… 145… 150…

 

Dogmeat nudged his arm. The dog hadn’t lost sight of him since the Professor had left it with him, which just made it that much harder not to think of her.

 

…155… 160… 165…

 

Dogmeat was not having any of this indifference, and shoved its head under his arm, lapping his face. At some level, he felt more connected to the dog right now than to any person at HQ.

 

“She’ll be back, boy.”

 

Dogmeat looked at him intently, ears pointing up, head tilted. On the one hand, Deacon wanted to be here when she dropped by, on the other hand he felt a visceral need to go out, put on a disguise, and hang around in one of his old haunts. Diamond City guard, caravan worker over at Bunker Hill, or drifter in Goodneighbour, anything. Almost all of those were spots where he used to watch the Professor, back before he knew her. Even then, green and fresh out of the vault, she had a certain thoughtful way about her. Not timid, but looking which way the wind blew before she acted. He’d used them to gather intel long before that, too, but now they felt tainted. They would just remind him of her. The way she travelled, there was hardly a place in the Commonwealth that wouldn’t. He looked at the box of ammunition in front of him.

 

Enough busywork. He cleaned up after himself, rummaged in his pack until he found his dog-eared and threadbare copy of ‘As You Like It’ and sat down, Dogmeat curled up at his feet. He read for a few hours, but ended up idly turning the pages for most of the time, unable to concentrate, despite it being his favourite play by Shakespeare. In the end, he spent a second restless night on one of the dingy mattresses laying around, missing the luxury of the beds they had back in Sanctuary Hills.

 

When he woke, Deacon still felt better rested than he had in a while.

 

_Huh, what laying off the sauce will do to you…_

 

Today he would do better. There was no time for him to indulge in distracting, selfish desires. He was with the Railroad for good reasons: repentance, and maybe, somewhere in the future, redemption for his time with the UP Deathclaws. Hell, for what he did to the UP Deathclaws. Most importantly, for Barbara. For what was done to her, and for what she had seen in him, even if he never could live up to it.

 

Dogmeat was circling him the moment he got up and put on his sunglasses, seemingly agitated, or more so than Deacon had gotten used to from the dog over the past few days.

 

“What’s up, boy? Wanna go outside?”

 

The German Shepard barked sharply, once, twice. Deacon grabbed his rifle - one can never be too careful - and started for the back entrance. But Dogmeat had other plans, so he followed the dog in the direction of the church exit.

 

Of course, the moment he resolved to no longer think about her or wait for her, the Professor came walking down the hallway, helmet in her hand, exposing her side shaved hairstyle. She was wearing an old baseball uniform, the faded red in the collar and sleeves making her hair seem even more radiant blue than usual. Mismatching pieces of armour strapped over the white and red suit, mostly combat armour, with one metal arm piece and one leather leg piece. When she beamed her little half smile at him, he felt his heart jump to his throat.

 

She was an oasis he wanted to drown in, surrounded by a barren desert of reality. She was a fallen angel, a post-apocalyptic wasteland siren.

 

_Can you really want too much of a good thing?_

 

Dogmeat lunged from his side to hers, and as the two greeted each other, Deacon tried to calm his insides to the point where they matched his outward composure. She was here already. Words left his lips before he had time to think about it.

 

“Want me back on deck, huh? I’ve got to admit, things have been pretty quiet without you.”

 

She looked at him ruefully.

 

“I’m here for Dogmeat, actually. But it’s pretty cute, how you think you’re so indispensable.”

 

Fuck. Was that a joke? Did he see a twinkle in her eyes? She winked at him, and he could actually feel the blood rise to his cheeks.

 

“So, what’s new here?”

 

There she went again, thinking of others, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate already. Deacon could hit himself. He should have asked her how she was doing. Drummer came running up to give the Professor an update on a dead drop for Randolph safe house.

 

How many did that make for Randolph? Five? And most agents helped them, what, once or twice a month? Apart from the Randolph dead drops, she’d helped return Carrington’s prototype from the Switchboard, safely escorted H2-22 to a safe house, checked on Augusta safe house, established Mercer safe house, set up five MILA’s for Tinker, and recovered a DIA cache for P.A.M. He knew for a fact she’d also established upwards of ten settlements for the Minutemen, kept those safe, and had done some legwork for the Brotherhood. In little over six months, she had done more for the Commonwealth than anyone he knew of.

 

In the meantime, the Professor promised to pick up the dead drop soon, and walked to the large table at the centre of HQ, where Dez could usually be found. The women quickly agreed on the Professor’s approach towards the Brotherhood of Steel, they needed to be watched but were not a priority right now. She also stopped by Tinker to tell him another MILA was up and running. Tinker gave her a new one, and a location to place it, and the Professor was off towards the exit, Dogmeat in her wake. As she passed Deacon, she grinned.

 

“You coming or not?”

 

He realised he had just been standing there, gawking at her like an idiot. He quickly grabbed his bag and wanted to reach for his book, which he’d left on a chair the night before, but she snatched it up before he could.

 

“Oooh! You’re reading… Shakespeare? And here I was thinking you just had a big book of quotes by famous writers somewhere. You’re such a romantic.”

 

Deacon rolled his eyes.

 

“Whomever can’t enjoy a good novel must be intolerably stupid. That goes for plays, too. If you ever hear there’s a company in town, please let me know. I’d like to enjoy it as it was intended.”

 

She sniggered, and gave him the book. “Maybe we can act it out ourselves? I’d like to see your take on Jacques.”

 

He followed her out of HQ.

 

“And I’d like to see you play Rosalind, Prof. But I don’t think you have the amount of vodka you’d need for me to act out Shakespeare with you.”

 

A sparkling laugh trailed towards him. “You have no idea what I have in my bag, Deacon.”

 

They set out heading northwest. Apparently, the settlers at Tenpines Bluff were having ghoul problems again. How these people had survived the Commonwealth up until now was a mystery to Deacon, but he was glad someone cared enough to help them.

 

She looked at the bag, which he’d slung over one shoulder.

 

“Your shoulder doing okay?”

 

He shrugged.

 

“Carrington had a lot to say about field medics and butchers when he saw it. But hey, it’s not infected.”

 

“Not too much pain?”

 

“Nothing some Stimpaks and Med-X can’t handle. Don’t worry, I won’t slow you down.”

 

He asked her about the Brotherhood and she laughingly recounted her visit to the Prydwen.

 

Again, he was surprised at how quickly they had slipped back into their routine of stalking around the ‘Wealth, occasionally breaking the silence to take jabs at each other. He loved the way her eyes tensed up when she was thinking of a witty comeback or scanning the horizon. His heart fluttered whenever she laced her remarks with casual flirting, winking or half smiling at him. Somehow, she could make a daylong hike pass as if it was hardly an hour. When they passed Wildwood Cemetery he realised they were almost at their destination.

 

Deacon wanted to ask her about the search for her son, or about that night, their night. Or had it been just his night? Regardless, he knew all too well how sarcasm could be used to deflect. He understood that all their banter served to keep each other at a safe distance. So why ask him along? The best reason he could think of was his own reason to be there. _To drown out pain and regret with adrenaline and alcohol. To always keep moving, because standing still meant falling apart. And to not have to do it alone._

 

*                      *                      *

 

After taking care of the ghouls at Bedford Station, it was getting pretty dark.

 

“We’re not sleeping in beds tonight, are we? That was the one thing I was actually looking forward to.” He shook his head in fake exasperation.

 

“At least we’ll have a roof over our head.”

 

She pointed to one of those small, one room buildings that were built overlooking the train tracks. There was a lantern on inside. Deacon grumbled some half sincere protestations. The two of them, in close quarters? _Get your mind out of the gutter, Deacon._ He couldn’t help it, though. Once they were inside the building, she started stripping off her armour, and his mind took him back to when he was taking those pieces off her. _Please just let me get through this night._

 

“We should be happy it hasn’t rained.” She said while removing a cloth package that was tied to the outside of her pack. Two straw pillows and a blanket. One blanket? He was going to hell, he was sure of it now. It was almost May, but the nights could still be cold. At HQ, people often shared mattresses, too, it wasn’t really a big deal. They’d slept together before too - for warmth - but not since they, well, slept together. He stood in the doorway, feeling a sudden urge to pop a stealthboy and bug out.

 

She sat down on the makeshift bed, pack between her legs, and produced some Fancy Lads Snack Cakes and a half full bottle of bourbon. He raised an eyebrow. _To hell. For sure._

 

“To make the hard ground soft. Shut the door behind your ass, will you?”

 

She tuned her Pip-Boy to Diamond City Radio, took a sip from the bottle and started eating. The Three Suns were on, singing about worrying about love passing them by.

 

_How fucking appropriate._

 

He shut the door behind his ass. _Come on, Deacon, sarcasm and overconfidence. Act normal._

 

“What, no candles? You’ll have to make a little more effort to seduce me, _Blue_. I like to be wooed.”

 

He hoped there was more poise in his voice than he felt. She just raised an eyebrow at him and continued eating, so he sat down beside her on the blanket, pillow in his back. He was trying to think of something to say, preferably something to ease the tension he felt. While they were eating and drinking, Deacon noticed a drastic change in the deejay when he announced the next song on the radio.

 

“What’s up with Travis? Sounds almost… suave. He’s not even stuttering anymore.”

 

Grinning, she answered in a overly casual tone.

 

“Oh, he just got into a bar fight and rescued a kidnapped bartender. No biggie.”

 

Deacon looked at her in disbelief.

 

“We’re talking about the same Travis, here? Scrawny guy, nervous wreck? What the hell do you get up to when I’m not around? And why don’t I get invited?”

 

“Let’s just say it was a confidence building experience for him. It was… just a night out for the girls, really. I think he’s actually kind of cute, by the way.” She listened to the radio for a few seconds. “Now, even more so. He does sound suave. Too bad he’s busy making eyes at Scarlet.”

 

Deacon looked at her. Was she trying to make him jealous? Even though it stung a little, he was glad she seemed to be back to her old self again, teasing and laughing. He would give up all other worldly fancies to see her like this, slightly jingled, strands of blue hair falling in front of her face, eyes bright with laughter. Her voice pulled him back into the moment.

 

“Deacon?”

 

Had he been staring at her again?

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You’ve read Jane Austen?”

 

“You caught that, huh?”

 

There was that little half smile again. _Of course_ she had.

 

“I’m pleased you’ve read something by a woman, at least.”

 

He laughed. “Out here you read what you can get your hands on. Beggars can’t be choosers. But she is okay, I guess.” He was downplaying the writer on purpose. Had he found one of her soft spots?

 

“Okay?! I adore her. She had a lot of the right ideas.” Deacon made an effort to look sceptical.

 

“Yeah? Like what?”

 

The Professor thought for a few seconds, then smiled triumphantly.

 

“I don’t want people to be very agreeable; it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.”

 

Deacon couldn’t help but laugh. “That explains a lot, actually.” The Professor’s eyes tensed up, lips curved downward in an obvious attempt to hide her smile.

 

“You mean how I chose my present company, don’t you?”

 

“Oh come on, your present company is _excellent_. I’m perfectly agreeable, and who wouldn’t like your furry friend? I meant some of your _other_ companions.”

 

She sat up immediately, crossing her legs and looking excited.

 

“Who? Am I finally getting some juicy gossip here? I’ve been waiting months for this!”

 

“I prefer to leave gossiping to others, it makes for bad intel. But I could give you my unadulterated opinion on them, if that’ll satisfy your curiosity?”

 

The Professor slouched back onto her pillow, pouting. They were lying with their heads close together, but facing away from each other. Deacon was afraid for his self-control should they touch.

 

“No fair. I can tell you your opinion on them. You like and trust Nick, Dogmeat, and Codsworth; like, but not totally trust, Piper; dislike and distrust Preston and Danse, with Danse at the bottom of the totem pole. You’re not very good at keeping your opinions as secret as your facts, you know?”

 

“So it seems. What do you think of them, then? Who do you like and trust?”

 

“ _The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them._ That’s what I do.”

 

Deacon frowned. He’d seen her around people. She didn’t just trust people implicitly, she was too smart for that. He had some trouble thinking through the fog the bourbon had left in his head, but the phrase sounded familiar. She’d lit two cigarettes and passed him one.

 

“Oh yeah, you’re a super trusting person, I can tell. I mean, all of Diamond City knows your history, what with the carnivorous guinea pigs and all.”

 

“You don’t have to trust people with everything at once, Deacon. There are levels of trust, you know.” She thought for a few seconds, blowing smoke over their heads. “It’s kinda like your story about being a synth, only I don’t lie.”

 

“I don’t lie to test if I can trust people. I do it to see how gullible they are, to see if they trust me. And, to get information.” He’d figured out her little quote, and decided to try one of his own, just to let her know he’d recognized it. “People will tell you if you can trust them. When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.”

 

He heard her giggle. So, she knew Hemingway. Not many people around these days that did. It was a nice feeling, sharing an interest other than the Railroad’s cause with someone.

 

“So, you must’ve thought I was pretty naive for not reading that recall code sooner, then?”

 

He decided to be honest for once. “Actually I thought it was pretty damn cute, the way you didn’t bat an eyelash at the idea. You weren’t the first I used that one on. Most people are either creeped out or… very curious. Was the first time I gave a recall code, though. Thought it added a nice touch. Plus, you seemed observant. Acting trustingly puts most people at ease.”

 

“I’m flattered, but that code was what made me suspicious, really. Most people are curious about what, exactly?”

 

_Deacon, you fucking ass, why did you have to broach that topic? Things were going so well._

 

“Oh you know, people don’t know how _authentic_ a synth’s body is. You’d be surprised how many women I picked up that way. Just mention you’re a synth to a certain type of girl, and she’ll want to see if you have all the appropriate _parts_.”

 

The Professor laughed and turned to look at him. He was suddenly very happy he was still wearing his sunglasses, as the whole subject made him a bit hot under the collar. She took another sip of bourbon.

 

“I just figured you came with everything attached. How else would you not know you’re a synth yourself? As far as I know you could still be a one, even after…”

 

Her voice trailed off, like that sentence ended up in a different place than she had intended, and she let herself fall back on her pillow again.

 

“Not that it would matter…”

 

He was trying very hard to let the meaning of her words sink in, but the fact she’d almost brought up the other night was distracting him.

 

Had she been thinking about it as much as he had? Had she thought about his… about him before?

 

Even though they weren’t touching he could suddenly feel the heat radiating from her body, could feel her breathing, her heartbeat. Like she was more there than a minute ago. Without looking he knew how every one of her limbs were arranged, lying on her back with one hand under her head and her legs pulled up. He closed his eyes, saw himself fucking her again, and immediately opened his eyes again. Fuck. He was getting an erection, his jeans felt too tight, and she was laying there right next to him. He had promised himself he wouldn’t do this.

 

_Fuck._

_Super mutants. Mama Murphy. Deathclaws. Paladin Danse._

 

The mental equivalent of a cold shower was not helping him as much as he’d hoped. A soft snore came from beside him. _Thank fucking heaven she fell asleep._ He got up, awkwardly, careful not to disturb her. _I’ll just handle this quickly._

 

Deacon stumbled outside. Once he was down the stairs, in the cool night air, he closed his eyes and finally pulled the shutters from the space in his mind reserved for her. He rested his head against the wall of the small building and imagined how he wished it could be.

 

Green eyes, looking at him from behind blue locks of hair, not desperate this time, but inviting. That little half smile around her lips, like they shared an exciting secret. Those same lips on his neck, nibbling his earlobe, telling him she wanted him.

 

Feeling like he could burst, he dropped his jeans to his ankles, and tried not to think of what he was doing. He envisioned what it would be like to taste her, to explore her. To hear her breath quicken because of the things he did to her. Her legs around his waist, listening to her say his name as he came inside of her. The thought was all he needed to come undone.

 

Fuck.

 

Here he was, standing in the middle of fucking nowhere, bare-assed, fantasizing about the woman who was slumbering a few meters away. How could he go sleep next to her now? Deacon pulled up his jeans and sat down on the bottom of the stairs, resting his head in his hands. Was this what he was about? Some pathetic dude, jerking off to the thought of a woman he hung out with almost every day? _Come on, Deacon, you never really thought you were better than this, did you?_ Full of self loathing, he sighed. _At least you didn’t actually drag her into it, this time._

 

After a while he got up and went back inside, where the Professor was still sleeping on top of the covering. Carefully, he pulled the blanket from underneath her and covered her with it. She looked like she was dreaming, eyes rolling behind their lids, head turning from one side to the other. He suppressed the urge to brush the hair from her face. Maybe he should just leave, to protect them both from wherever this was leading him.

 

_Not while she is sleeping. Not so that she’ll wake up alone._

 

She started mumbling in her sleep, something she often did. Probably dreaming of her past life. He laid down next to her on top of the blanket, grateful for the coarse woollen barrier between their bodies. He’d just be a bit cold tonight. No problem. He was slowly falling asleep when he heard two audible words in between the Professor’s mumbling.

 

“Deacon, no!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter done. Can't believe I got this far!  
> Hope you guys are enjoying it, because I'm not done yet :)


	6. You Know I'm No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue wakes up after some intense dreams, she and Deacon seem to be doing better, but then they get to Goodneighbour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the beginning of Dangerous Minds and the Big Dig
> 
> Titlesong: [Amy Winehouse - _You know I'm no good_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-I2s5zRbHg)

_Why is waking up so difficult?_

 

Blue had trouble clearing the jumbled images of her dreams from her head. Was it really morning already? She felt like she’d been having nightmares. Her neck was in knots, and her arm was prickling from lying on it for too long. She sighed and rolled over, remembering a time of sleeping in on the weekends, the occasional breakfast in bed, soft beds, for that matter. It happened less and less, but sometimes she still awakened thinking it was 2077. But then she felt the hardships of the road, and she remembered.

 

_Right, it’s because the world is a shitty, shitty place to wake up in._

 

She didn’t give herself too much time to feel bad about it, and opened her eyes. Huh. It was early, the sun had only just risen over the horizon. Deacon was up already, as evidenced by the empty spot next to her. No new mistakes to regret, apparently. She didn’t know whether to be glad or sad about that. Travis was announcing Betty Hutton’s ‘He’s a Demon, He’s a Devil, He’s a Doll’ on the radio. When she sat up, Blue saw Deacon’s back. He was sitting in the doorway, leaning against the post, and smoking. His attention was directed towards something outside, which gave her an opportunity to shamelessly look at him.

 

With his pompadour wig, greaser jacket, jeans, and cigarette hanging casually from the side of his mouth, he looked like one of those bad boys out of the movies. The smoke of his cigarette trailing above him like he’s a steamboat. The type your mom would warn you about. A bark from outside, and Blue realized he was watching Dogmeat.

 

_…Everyone tells me he’s no good, he doesn’t love me like he should, I would forget him if I only could…_

 

Fuck, she still wanted him. Something in him kept calling out to her. She shook her head. _He obviously doesn’t feel the same about you, Blue. Just forget it._ No man she’d ever known had _not_ pursued his romantic interests. Things couldn’t have changed that much, could they? He heard her sigh as she grabbed a bottle of water and turned his head.

 

“Well good morning, _princess_. All rested?”

 

Didn’t he just sound mollified. Blue instantly grew suspicious, and narrowed her eyes.

 

“Is there any particular reason I shouldn’t be?”

 

Deacon chuckled. “No, no, of course not. It just seemed like you were dreaming a lot, is all.”

 

Was that why she’d woken up so foggy? She’d been having a recurring dream she could never remember when she woke up. There was still a hint of glee in Deacon’s voice, though. That tone that was always there when he was yanking someone’s chain.

 

“I seemed to be dreaming? You mean I was just sleeping, don’t you? Snoring, maybe?”

 

The chuckle turned into snorting.

 

“Actually, you kind of…”

 

He wasn’t even looking at her now. _This must be bad._

 

“Yelled my name…”

 

She stared at him with her mouth open as he turned back towards her, his mouth contorted in an attempt not to smile.

 

“Multiple times.”

 

He didn’t even attempt to hide his gloating. Blue felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. _Fuck._ Blushing was just the worst possible reaction you could have to anything Deacon said. He was probably just fucking with her, but she might as well tell him that she dreamt of them having sex every night now. Even though she felt more like she’d had a nightmare when she’d woken up, there was no way he would believe her. Piper’s jab at her after confessing to sleeping with Deacon came to her mind, and she decided to at least /try/ to save some face.

 

“I was calling your name? You’re sure I wasn’t crying too? Like, in pain, or disappointment maybe?”

 

Deacon grabbed his chest melodramatically. “You wound me, Professor.”

 

He couldn’t really keep the smirk off of his face, though. He had something on her and he knew it.

 

“You’re probably just lying again, anyway.”

 

“I’ve always known I’d turn into the boy who cried deathclaw one day.”

 

She rolled her eyes. Going against it wasn’t working.

 

“Okay, you’re right, _Dee_.” A shadow of doubt crept over his face. “I can’t keep it in any longer. I just want you so _badly_.”

 

It was scary to say something so true, but she managed to keep her voice level, so it came out like a sneer. Triumphantly she looked at him as he turned slightly reddish. _Don’t start what you’re not willing to finish, Deacon. I’ve got no more self-respect left to lose, anyway._ But his years of practice paid off, and he recovered quickly.

 

“Now doesn’t it feel better to get it out in the open? Don’t worry, I won’t think any less of you. I know I’m somewhat of a catch. Not quite ready to be reeled in, though. You ready for some breakfast?”

 

He rummaged through her pack until he found some potato crisps, popped the top of the can and stuffed his mouth.

 

“Hey, rude much? Don’t just go through my stuff!”

 

Deacon didn’t take the time to swallow. “Why? Hou have a-y mow vecwets hou-ah heeping vwom me?”

 

He was glancing in her pack, still chewing. _I can’t be in love with this guy, he’s way too infuriating._ Blue curbed her urge to slap him. It looked like he noticed, because he stepped away from her bag to offer her some crisps.

 

“Here, a peace offering.”

 

She looked at him suspiciously before grabbing a handful. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. I know you won’t give up that easily. We should really talk about boundaries one day.”

 

“What can I say, I like to rise to a challenge. And I’m a patient man, Blue.”

 

Despite having resumed their usual teasing the morning after, Deacon hadn’t seemed quite as confident as she’d grown used to since that night in Sanctuary. His current tone had her insides writhing in sudden lust. Was that the first time she heard him use Piper’s nickname un-ironically? Why did he have to be so easy-going, yet so in control? She wanted to loosen that grip he kept so tight, wanted that blush back on his face.

 

“You’re also a very _sneaky_ man, Deacon, but no rifling through my gear. I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

 

“That’s just a convenient pretext to look at my ass, isn’t it? Anyway, what’s todays plan?”

 

Blue sighed, rubbing her forehead. She would have been happy to change the subject if it hadn’t brought her thoughts back to Shaun.

 

“On to Sanctuary. I need to pick something up before heading to Goodneighbour. You’ve heard of the Memory Den?”

 

“Sure. Doctor Amari, who runs the pods, has a Geiger counter.”

 

The Railroad call sign. Right. It figured the doctor who messed with memories was working with them. Blue had heard some things about memory wipes for rescued synths. She’d been at the Memory Den herself, but her experience had been… less than pleasant. Reliving the moment Shaun was taken from her was not what she’d signed up for. Irma and Doctor Amari had apologized profusely when they realized the distress it had caused her, of course, but the memory made her nervous about what exactly she’d encounter this time around.

 

“ Nick thinks she might be able to… extract some memories from Kellogg.”

 

“Wait, what? As in, from dead Kellogg, the guy you shot days ago?”

 

Blue started packing her stuff while she thought about it.

 

“I don’t fully understand the science behind it, but yeah. Nick seems to think it might work, even if I have only part of his brain.”

 

“You stashed Kellogg’s brain in Sanctuary? Damn, Prof, that’s cold even to Commonwealth standards.” He shook his head. “You just took it with you? How does that even work?”

 

Deacon looked at her bag.

 

“Wait a minute, is _that_ why you didn’t want me snooping? It’s full of creepy stuff, right? Do you worship one of those Old Ones or something?”

 

She laughed. “Yeah, of course. I figured that voodoo doll with all the needles jammed into it, which bears a striking resemblance to you, might freak you out a little. Also my collection of virgin’s blood and deathclaw hearts.”

 

Deacon grimaced. “And here I was thinking I’ve been drinking too much lately. Thanks for the headaches, by the way.”

 

Eye rolls abounded, and Blue decided to get the conversation back on track.

 

“Kellogg had some sort of brain augmentations. Electrical doodads. In his noggin. So I took them back with me. There was still some, err… grey matter attached.”

 

“Okay then, let’s go pick up some dead Institute lackey’s thinking noodles.”

 

Blue finished strapping on her armour, grabbed her pack, and followed him outside, where Dogmeat was already waiting.

 

*                      *                      *

 

The trip to Sanctuary was short and uneventful. Blue informed Preston about the successful eradication of the feral ghouls at Bedford Station, dropped off some junk, stocked up on supplies, and gathered the technology she’d salvaged from Kellogg. Before long they were on the road again, heading towards Goodneighbour.

 

With every meter covered, Blue felt her anxiety increasing. The whole plan seemed like such a pipe dream, and it was the only lead she had. If this didn’t pan out, she’d be dead in the water, without any clue to find her son.

 

The hardest part, though, the real kicker, was that she was so _afraid_ of finding him. Once upon a time she’d had a pretty good idea of how her life would progress. She hadn’t been happy with all of it, of course, but it had been tangible. Shaun would grow up, maybe she and Nate would’ve had another kid, they’d grow old together, have grand kids, the end. Jobs, kindergartens, schools, a home, healthcare, social support, it had all been there. What could she offer her baby boy now? Sure, surviving had become easy enough for her in the last couple of months. Hell, she knew she could even protect her son in this world.

 

But to what end? Where were the other kids, the bright future? What would be his reason for living? And now someone else had raised him, too. He wouldn’t even know who she was. What if he felt loyalty towards his captors? What if he didn’t want to go with this strange woman that came out of nowhere?

 

All these doubts were gnawing at her soul, leaving raw, painful edges she could only try to dull by drinking and running away. And right now she was sober as fuck and heading straight towards him, metaphorically at least.

 

As the trio approached Goodneighbour, she sent out a silent prayer for a diversion. Anything, as long as it would delay this confrontation with Kellogg’s mind, Shaun’s fate, and her greatest insecurities. As they entered Goodneighbour she checked her Pip-Boy to see if she might have anything else to do there, and found a note she’d left herself about a woman named Bobbi No-Nose, who was looking for help with a job.

 

Blue grinned to herself. Now that was an Old World style mafia name. No-Nose. _Huh_.

 

“Hey, Deacon? I want to make a stop before we go to the Memory Den.”

 

He frowned a little as he looked at her. “Really?’’

 

“Yeah, I got word a while ago that someone called Bobbi No-Nose is looking for help.”

 

She was playing innocent, and he saw right through it.

 

“You want to help Bobbi? Since when are you into a life of caps and crime, Prof?”

 

No way was she admitting she wanted to delay this whole 'memories of my mortal enemy' thing because she was scared shitless regardless of the outcome of the whole endeavour.

 

“I’d settle for a life of fun and excitement, but I need to fund the supply of Stimpaks you seem to need when travelling around the ‘Wealth. Not to mention your drinking habit.”

 

Deacon shot her an incredulous look.

 

“Don’t you mean our drinking habit? I seem to have some incoherent, fuzzy memories of you being at least slightly intoxicated most evenings too.”

 

She laughed. “All the more reason to earn some caps, wouldn’t you say?”

 

They arrived at a metal door in some back alley. A small window in the door squeaked open, the face of a woman appearing behind it. Bobbi No-Nose, alright. She’d never seen a ghoul with a nose. Blue wondered how long it took before people lost their noses to the ghoulification process. Probably rude to ask.

 

It took some persuading to get Bobbi to increase the upfront pay to 100 caps and divulge at least some details on the job, but Blue had gotten good at it. Apparently, manual labour was involved. It would provide a welcome change from shooting things, at least. Judging from how tight-lipped Bobbi was, however, the end goal was bound to upset someone.

 

Blue and Deacon descended into an underground tunnel to join two other members of the team in their excavation efforts, but when they reached the cavern they were working in, some mirelurks appeared, and their two unfamiliar team members just ran off, saying something about not being paid enough for this.

 

_Well that just figures, doesn’t it?_

 

Good thing Bobbi had enough sense to hire her, because these dip shits were obviously not prepared for anything. The three mirelurks were taken care of easy enough, but there was nothing there that seemed worth all the effort. Just another dank cave with some machinery in it.

 

Their new boss came running down, probably warned by those cowards as they fled.

 

“What’s going on in my tunnel?”

 

“Looks like we’re having crab for dinner tonight.” Blue scoffed. She saw Deacon grinning beside her, but Bobbi shivered.

 

“You’d eat mirelurk? Ugh, no. Disgusting. Tough, but somehow slimy at the same time.”

 

She was happy the two took care of the creatures, but for work to continue, she needed another hand on board. An old friend of hers. One who apparently couldn’t make his own way to Goodneighbour. _Great._ Bobbi said she’d meet them in Diamond City for the next step of her plan. She’d better be willing to divulge a bit more on her plan there, if she expected Blue’s help.

 

Blue would’ve really liked to head right out to the great green jewel, but one glance in Deacon’s direction told her he would begin to seriously question her judgement if she left Goodneighbour without visiting the Memory Den first. _Alright, then._ With lead in her boots Blue began walking, a black knot of anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit shorter, hope y'all still like it 
> 
> And don't forget to pick up your Geiger counter in the shop, never know when you might need it ;)


	7. Something I Can Never Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue's dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-canon, dreamy fluff & fright. No new spoilers.
> 
> Titlesong: [Nine Inch Nails - _Something I can never have_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAGAoy5WZWY)

Blue was sitting on a blanket with a glass of wine in her hand.

 

As she looked around she noticed the meadow about her, lush green speckled with the white and blue of small flowers. It was warm, and she was dressed for the weather, in one of her favourite sundresses. The sun was so bright even her floppy sunhat wasn’t keeping it from blinding her, so she couldn’t see exactly who was sitting next to her, but she felt pleasant, safe.

 

She held her hand out to provide her eyes with extra shelter from the sun.

 

Deacon.

 

He was smiling sweetly at her, sunglasses reflecting the sunlight.

 

“How is the ’37, beautiful?”

 

She swirled the wine in her glass and took a sip.

 

“Divine.”

 

She took another sip and let herself fall backward, angling herself so she could rest her head on his lap. What a lovely day. He leisurely played with locks of her hair. Her hat had fallen off. She wondered why the hair wrapped around his fingers was blue. Had she been to the hairdresser recently?

 

She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter anyway. Abruptly, a gust of wind picked up her hat and blew it away, causing her to look at the horizon. There she could see heavy thunder clouds, littered with flashes of… green lightening? They lit up the hulking clouds with an eerie light. As the clouds covered up the sun a chill came to the air.

 

That was one mother of a storm. Suddenly she realised Shaun was in the house, with Codsworth looking after the baby. A deep, gripping panic took a hold of her.

 

“Deacon? Shaun is inside!”

 

He grabbed her hand and they hurried to the house. It was separated from the street by a perfectly kept lawn with a doghouse on it. Did they own a dog?

 

Despite the lovely weather a minute ago, she could see Halloween decoration everywhere. Bright, orange pumpkins, green witches in black dresses on broomsticks. Green lightning crackled through the air, making her hair stand on end. The thunder rumbled at the same time.

 

The storm was here.

 

The wind pulled everything, from newspapers to parasols, into the air. Deacon pulled open the front door and pushed her inside. The door slammed shut behind her.

 

It was so dark, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust. All of a sudden she was freezing cold, shivering, with chattering teeth. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew she was not alone.

 

When she started to make out shapes around her, she saw she wasn’t really standing in her living room, but was enclosed in a pod of sorts. The front was made of glass, and through it she could see other pods lined up on the other side of a corridor. The pod opposite hers contained a boy who looked vaguely familiar.

 

If only she could think straight. But the cold seemed to have slowed everything down, even her thought processes.

 

A shadow stirred to the right of the corridor, and Deacon emerged from the dark. Still wearing his sunglasses, baldheaded, but wearing heavy merc gear now. She started pounding on the glass.

 

“Deacon, get me out of here!”

 

He ignored her and walked to the pod with the boy inside. It opened, and the boy staggered forward. Deacon grabbed him by the shoulder, and turned to look at her. He was smiling at her, face unreadable because of those damned glasses, holding something to the boy’s head.

 

When she saw what it was, she tripled her effort of beating against the glass.

 

“Deacon, what the hell are you doing? Deacon?!”

 

“Didn’t you say you wanted to make the ‘Wealth a better place, Blue? I’m just here to /help/.”

 

“Deacon, no!”

 

She was still helplessly screaming and pounding the glass as the boy’s lifeless body slumped back into the pod.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was mostly randomness :)  
> More of the regular story coming soon


	8. Neon Cathedral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking away her blues in the Third Rail, Blue meets a certain mercenary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Dangerous Minds, meeting MacCready and the beginning of Long Road Ahead
> 
> Titlesong: [Macklemore & Ryan Lewis (feat Allen Stone) - _Neon cathedral_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKTQexLS9wE)

Blue sat at a bar, staring at the bottom of her glass.

 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck fuckity fuck._

 

How had she ever thought it was a good idea to take a trip through Kellogg’s fucking memories?

 

It had been a far-fetched idea to begin with, one she didn’t expect to succeed. But it had, and the experience was so much worse than she had expected. She had lived through some of Kellogg’s most intimate memories, narrated by the merc himself, no less. As she had expected, he had a sad life. Nevertheless, in the end he was too weak to actually care about anyone but himself. Once the few people he cared about were gone, only his fucking happiness mattered, or not even his happiness, because he seemed to have none left. Just his continued existence. The man had been utterly ruthless.

 

Even his time with Shaun hadn’t really changed that. He was fond of the boy, sure, but it was always just an assignment, just work. There hadn’t been any real ups and downs in his life for a long time. Blue frowned. Did she actually feel sorry for him? At least she had put an end to that miserable existence. She suspected he’d been glad that it was finally over.

 

Blue understood the pain of loss, maybe better than most, how it felt safer not to let anyone or anything in afterward. Now she had seen where that path would lead her. Fuck. She shook her head. At least she tried to care, even when it felt like she was just going through the motions. She took every opportunity to help others even though she felt nothing. Would it be enough?

 

When she came out of the vault and found out what had happened to the world she’d basically seen two options: lie down and give up, or keep going. Up until now, she had succeeded in keeping going, but it felt like tonight she would end up flat on her face. Wondering if her stubbornness was the same as what had kept Kellogg going, Blue finished her drink.

 

What had she actually learned going through all of this?

 

For starters, an Institute scientist had gone rogue, and was most likely hiding in a place so overwhelmed with radiation they called it the Glowing Sea. She would have to find some way to survive the radiation to even properly search for the scientist, all just with the faint hope they would be able and willing to help her get in to the Institute. But, it did show there were people in the Institute trying to get out.

 

Apart from that… she’d seen her son. First she’d seen his kidnapping again, from outside the cryo-pod this time. But then… he was ten years old, sitting on the ground reading comic books. Politely telling that asshole Kellogg that he hoped to see him again when someone from the Institute, a ‘Courser’ Kellogg had called him, came to collect Shaun. Shit, he really was a kid, not a baby. Somehow, she had held out hope Kellogg was lying all this time. Her baby boy.

 

She remembered Deacon had told her about Coursers. They collected escaped synths for the Institute, and were largely responsible for wiping out the Switchboard, the Railroad’s previous HQ. Why was one of them picking up Shaun? Was he that important to the Institute? The thought scared the hell out of her.

 

Of course, the real surprise had been that the Courser and Shaun had teleported out of there. It seemed there was no physical entrance into the Institute. To the Railroad, this was a revelation. To Blue, it just seemed like one more insurmountable obstacle in her path.

 

That had been the last memory. She had not known how to get out of the Memory Den fast enough, and told both Nick Valentine and Deacon to buzz off. She needed to be alone for a while. She had even sent Dogmeat on his way. Nick had been understanding as always. Deacon, however… a big fat frown had creased his brow, and she seriously had to scold him before he would leave. Not her proudest moment, but he had acted all sensitive and delicate, totally unlike him. If only he had made one of his stupid jokes, she could have pretended nothing was wrong. Pretended she believed there would be some kind of happy ever after if she just kept going. Her actions since being frozen were nothing to be proud of, either. Sure, she had made the wasteland a better place for quite a few people. Nevertheless, in her head she could see all the bodies while she stripped them of their gear after she killed them. All in the name of helping people, of course. She scowled. _One must be cunning and wicked in this world._

 

Right now, Deacon could go fuck himself, with his careful insinuations she shouldn’t be alone. His fucking worry. His promise that, together, they would find Shaun. Like he even knew what it was like. After he had finally left with a hurt look she hadn’t seen on his face before, she’d ducked into the Third Rail and let Whitechapel Charlie help her drown her sorrows and anger. Maybe the better solution was to drown herself. She waved at the barkeep for another drink.

 

“You looking for ano‘er refill?”

 

Blue looked at the Mister Handy who served as barkeep.

 

“Charlie, you keep ‘em coming until I drown in it, okay?”

 

The robot swerved around and refilled her glass. She was drinking bourbon again.

 

“As long as you ‘ave the caps, I ain’t gonna argue, love.”

 

She emptied her glass in one gulp, gestured for another, and paid the man. Charlie knew better than to comment further. It was just that kind of establishment.

 

The Third Rail was based in an old metro station. Without the possibility of natural light seeping in, it was a refuge for those seeking to hide from the reality outside all hours of the day, with a barkeep who didn’t sleep. Moreover, there was a cheap hotel around the corner, firmly within crawling distance. _Fucking perfect._

 

She sipped from her drink, slowly this time. The alcohol began working its soothing enthralment. She didn’t need to think about Shaun anymore. Some day in the future, she would have to take that torch up again, but for now, she was just another scavver in a bar full of filth. Everyone had their troubles they came here to forget. She would be okay, even if she let everything go for a night, or maybe a few nights. Magnolia was working her usual magic, standing in the spotlight and singing one of her songs in that sensual voice. Blue felt a sudden need to take her drink, get up and walk around.

 

It felt like a night made for trouble, and so she went looking.

 

There was a backroom with a sign saying VIP she hadn’t noticed when she came here before. When she walked through the door, she could hear one, two, three men arguing. She leaned against the wall just past the doorway and lit a cigarette, observing the situation. Two of the men had apparently tracked the third, whom they called MacCready, here after he left the Gunners, a notorious gang of mercenaries in the ‘Wealth. The Gunners were not too happy with MacCready continuing his business here. But they didn’t want any trouble with Goodneighbour, or more likely, Hancock, so they were here threatening MacCready, like a bunch of little cowards. He must be good though, for them to take the trouble.

 

Before she could properly work up a rage for these little shits, the two left with a few final words of warning. Blue looked at this MacCready character from under the brim of her hat.

 

He was wearing some kind of cap that obscured his eyes in shadow, and a long duster, tattered and torn below the waist, held together with a belt. He had an ammo strap wrapped around his left leg, filled with .308’s, and binoculars hanging from his coat. A sniper.

 

Of course, he was a sniper.

 

As her gaze travelled upwards, their eyes met. He seemed a little self-conscious under her scrutiny, but still spoke up in a gruff voice.

 

“Listen, lady. If you’re preaching about the atom, or looking for a friend, you’ve got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun… then maybe we can talk.”

 

 _Hah. Looking for a friend._ He couldn’t know that she held people at arm’s length, and was purposefully avoiding the few people who actually cared about her. Maybe an impersonal merc who didn’t feel the need to care so damn much was just what the doctor ordered. Blue almost giggled, made up her mind, finished her drink and walked up to him, brushing right past him to place her now empty glass on a table.

 

“I’ve got enough friends, and no vested interest in religion whatsoever. But, I could use someone skilled enough to watch my back. You think you got what it takes, hotshot?”

 

Blue was standing very close to MacCready, batting her eyelashes up at him. He was only just taller than she was, and lanky, and now that she could better see his face, she noted it wasn’t exactly unattractive. A light brown goatee framed his thin lips, crowned by a sharp nose and even sharper dark eyes. She was drunk enough to be amused by his unsure expression, stuck somewhere between surprise and provocation. He hesitated a few moments before answering.

 

“You’re joking, right? I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. I know my way around. I used to run with the Gunners, for god’s sake.”

 

She cocked her eyebrow. “What, those guys who just left? They didn’t seem that impressive, to be honest. I was looking forward to watching you wipe the floor with them.”

 

That earned her a little smile, at least.

 

“I don’t want the stink of Winlock and Barnes rubbing off on me and scaring away my business. Now, what about you? How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?”

 

Blue gave him a sly grin, “I can’t make any promises on that, but the bullet won’t be mine. Plus I’ve got some caps to spare, and I could use some… new company.”

 

MacCready studied her face for a while with an amused expression, obviously sizing her up.

 

“I’ll tell you what. The price is 250 caps… up front. And there’s no room for bargaining.”

 

She pulled on the lapels of his duster.

 

“Everything is negotiable. Make it 200 caps and tonight, drinks are on me.”

 

“I’m probably going to regret this, but you’ve got yourself a deal, boss. Let’s go.”

 

She handed him the caps, wondering what the hell she was doing. Hiring a merc? She’d been a respectable married woman before all this. Now she was trying to hook up with a second guy in a week’s time. Fuck it, she decided. She deserved this. Anything to make life a little bearable. As they approached the bar together, he turned to her.

 

“Alright, let me do all the talking in here.”

 

Blue didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d already been here several times.

 

“Whitey, how are you?”

 

“As I live and breathe… MacCready. You ‘ere to finally se’le your tab?”

 

“Yup. A hundred caps, right? Got it all right here.”

 

The man started counting out caps on the counter, but Charlie responded. “Oh no, MacCready. I told you… a ‘undred caps covered the finder’s fee, but you still owed me for the disposal. But, I’ll tell you what. For old time’s sake, I’ll let the debt go. But you owe me a favour.”

 

MacCready laughed. “Yeah, yeah… You’re all heart, Whitechapel. Can I get two bourbons, please?”

 

Even though Blue promised otherwise, MacCready paid for the drinks. Had Charlie had a face with human expression, they might have noticed the meaningful glances he shot between the two. As a bartender, he had seen the same scene play out many times, of course. Blue took a sip from her drink, and lit a cigarette, wondering how she was going to play this. She didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with seducing men. Before the Big One, the men had gone through the brunt of the trouble, and since… Well, she hadn’t so much seduced Deacon as thrown herself at him. And, he hadn’t exactly shown an interest in her in that way since. Fuck, she didn’t want to think about him. She drank her bourbon, and thanked god when MacCready interrupted her train of thought.

 

“So boss, what’s your story?”

 

Blue wondered for a second what she should tell him, if anything. She decided to go with the truth, since no one would believe that anyway. Truth really could be stranger than fiction.

 

“Oh, you know, I was placed in cryogenic stasis over 200 years ago. When I came to, somebody had kidnapped my baby for the Institute. So, now, I’m trying to find their base of operations, but I get sidetracked a lot by people that need help out here. You?”

 

“Right. You could’ve just told me to mind my own dam-… darn business, you know.” He looked at her, and only now seemed to notice her Pip-Boy. “Wait, are you that vault dweller I heard about on the radio? You are, aren’t you! You have been _busy_.”

 

There was something like admiration in his eyes now.

 

“Yeah, that’s me.”

 

“Are you really looking for your kid?”

 

This conversation wasn’t exactly going in the direction she was hoping for, but Blue took the opportunity to vent.

 

“Yeah. I’ve found some people to help me, but most of the time I end up helping /them/ with their shit. And, every time I do find something about my son they act like I’m some fragile prewar relic that needs to be protected. All while I’m constantly pulling their asses out of the fire!”

 

MacCready seemed to let it sink in for a minute, while sipping his drink.

 

“Looking for your son… Well shi- I mean shoot. I’m glad I signed up to help, boss. Nevermind those other assho-… friends of yours.”

 

Blue couldn’t help but laugh. The way he tried to swallow his curses was pretty adorable coming from a seasoned merc. It made her giddy. Or maybe that was just all the bourbon swimming in her head.

 

“So, what services can I expect from you?”

 

MacCready almost choked on his drink.

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

“Oh, you heard me.”

 

Was he really going to play coy? Fuck, if she couldn’t even pick up a cute guy from a bar after paying him, she was worse off than she thought. He almost seemed shy when he finally answered.

 

“Erm… I’m usually hired on a simple “you point, I shoot” basis, boss. Always, really.”

 

“Listen, can you stop calling me “boss”? I already have plenty of people calling me that one way or another, and I’d like to not be reminded of my fucking responsibilities for a while.”

 

MacCready raised his glass.

 

“I’ll drink to that.”

 

They both finished their drinks, and this time Blue did pay for the round. She was starting to feel pretty intoxicated, and confident.

 

“So, what do you do for a good time, MacCready?"

 

He shifted uncomfortably in his bar stool.

 

“You’re doing it right now.”

 

Blue rolled her eyes at him. _This guy._ Was he actually this thick? Or was he trying to let her down easy? He cleared his throat and continued in a slightly annoyed tone of voice.

 

“Listen, boss, I know we’ve only just met, but… I really don’t like it when people aren’t straight with me. What do you want, exactly?”

 

All or nothing it is.

 

“I want to be distracted, and I was wondering if you would provide me with said distraction. You up for that, hotshot?”

 

Ha. For a man demanding clarity, he seemed awfully shocked by her proposal, although not entirely unwilling. He drank from his bourbon, and answered, while avoiding her eyes.

 

“I, erm… fu-… I mean, sure? If that’s really what you want, boss.”

 

Well that was a fucking relief. He seemed more embarrassed than she was.

 

“I do. And I don’t want to give you orders, so stop calling me boss! You can be boss for a while, if you want.”

 

MacCready grinned mischievously, swirling his drink in its glass.

 

“You’ve been busy bossing people around a lot, boss? Maybe it is time someone told you what to do.”

 

Blue grinned too. She liked how he was thinking, especially if it meant she didn’t have to think or decide anything. She tried imitating his tone of voice.

 

“Sure thing, boss.”

 

They both finished their drinks in silence. Before getting up to leave, MacCready looked at her with renewed doubt.

 

“Are you really sure…?”

 

But Blue was starting to get in to her role.

 

“You lead, I follow, boss.”

 

A warmth spread through her body. It was an actual relief to relinquish some control for once. MacCready had a look on his face as if he couldn’t really believe what was happening, but he started for the exit, and she followed. They crossed the street to Hotel Rexford, and in her inebriated state, she wasn’t sure if she saw a familiar flash of sunglasses between the drifters that were always roaming the streets in Goodneighbour. It was probably just her imagination, fuelled by alcohol. In the hotel Blue paid for a room and they walked up the stairs, Blue a few steps behind MacCready. Once they were up there, they both stood in silence. They hadn’t spoken a word since leaving the Third Rail.

 

Blue was just wondering if she should give up and take initiative, when MacCready spoke up, his voice tense and rough.

 

“Maybe you… should… take off your clothes.”

 

He sounded unsure, but Blue started stripping off the clothes that were dirty from travelling obediently. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and she could already feel herself getting wet while she had hardly undone one of the buttons of the sleeveless jacket she was wearing, just from him staring at her.

 

“Look at me while you undress.”

 

He still seemed uncomfortable, but spoke with more authority in his voice than before. She had been staring at the floor, but now she looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark pits under his cap in the dimly lit room, but she could see him following her every movement, eyes lingering on her legs, her ass, her breasts. When she dropped her underwear to the floor, he didn’t speak immediately, instead just stood there looking back at her. His head gestured towards the bed.

 

“Lie down.”

 

She complied, and they continued to stare at each other while MacCready removed his duster and hat. He seemed to have made up his mind. Carefully, but without warning, he grabbed her legs and pulled until her ass was barely on the bed, then crouched between her legs, descending on her without hesitation. She gasped as his tongue touched her slit.

 

He leisurely took his time to explore her, all the while being cautious not to touch her clit. She tried to arch into it, but he put his hands on her hips and held her down, only releasing one side to slide two fingers inside of her. He started moving his tongue and fingers in concert until she could hardly take it anymore. She’d probably been making noise, because he looked up at her face with a bit of a triumphant expression on his face, standing back up and taking off the rest of his clothes, revealing a throbbing erection. Blue started crawl towards him to return the favour.

 

“Nuh-uh. Who was the boss here? You stay right there.”

 

MacCready was getting into ordering her around, it seemed. Not that she minded. He looked slightly embarrassed now he was naked, but as far as she was concerned, he didn’t need to be. He looked lean and tense, like a bow ready to release an arrow. A network of scars connected over his body. By the looks of it, he had been fighting all of his life. He crawled onto the bed, on top of her. When she tried to trace some of the scars on his chest, he grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them above her head, carefully angling himself so that he could enter her. He looked her right in the eyes as he slowly penetrated her, savouring her open mouth and sighs.

 

“You like that, huh, being fucked by a stranger in a dirty hotel room?”

 

It seemed a rhetorical question at first, but when she didn’t answer he actually stopped moving, and she hurried to answer.

 

“Fuck… yes!”

 

He slowly thrusted once.

 

“Yes, what?”

 

“Yes, I want to be fucked, MacCready, fuck…”

 

She was getting awkward flashbacks now, she didn’t want to beg, not again, but that was enough for MacCready. He started pounding into her with renewed energy, releasing her wrists to give himself more purchase with both hands on her hips, keeping a steady rhythm. When he started rubbing her clit she was on the verge of coming in seconds, whimpering incomprehensibly. He wasn’t far behind her when he felt how she pulsated around him.

 

Pulling himself back, he looked at her with an asking expression, and she didn’t need any more encouragement. She got on her knees and wrapped her lips around his dripping cock. He gingerly put his hand on the back of her neck, but she took him in completely, and in a couple of thrusts, she could feel him come inside her mouth. He was looking down at her wide-eyed, his chest still heaving. Blue swallowed and wiped her mouth, feeling a little nervous about her obvious display of _hunger_ for all this.

 

It was a good thing she was shitfaced, so she didn’t think about it too much. Tomorrow’s reckoning would come tomorrow, not tonight. In the meantime, MacCready had put on his underwear and grabbed some cigarettes. As he laid down beside her on the bed, he asked

 

“Are you okay?”

 

She just nodded sleepily. He lit a cigarette and pulled a prickly blanket over them.

 

“We still okay for work?”

 

Blue nodded again. She was already falling asleep.

 

Why was it so much easier sleeping next to someone? In her last moments of consciousness, she remembered the flash of light reflected in sunglasses she had seen outside the hotel. Had it really been him? No use in worrying about it now. If need be, she would burn that bridge when she got to it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you liked that :)
> 
> We'll get back to Deacon's POV next time, promise!


	9. Time For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon's been hanging around Railroad HQ when the Professor shows up again, and she's not alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the side quest Last Voyage of the USS Constitution.  
> More lies about Deacon's history (or are they?)  
> Deacon and MacCready don't really get along.  
>   
> Titlesong: [K Flay - _Time for you_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYg4I2J748s)

Several weeks went by after the Goodneighbour debacle before he saw her again. During that time it felt as though his brain had been replaced by a nest of angry bees. While hanging around HQ, he found himself making jokes that crossed the line from snide to mean a bit too often. Dez and Glory had been exchanging worried glances over him. In short, he needed to get his shit together.

 

Of course, she just came strolling in when he was least expecting it.

 

Of course, she looked just as spectacular as he remembered.

 

He felt a familiar pang in his chest he should’ve anticipated by now but that kept taking him by surprise. Deacon was still trying to regain his inner composure when he saw who followed her into the Railroad HQ. Short of stature, gangly, sniper rifle slung over his shoulder, stupid cap on his smug little head.

 

_That damned scrawny ex-Gunner._

 

He swallowed a sudden surge of rage and envy, pressed it all the way down to his feet, until all that was left was intense self loathing. Now that, he could work with.

 

“Hey, MacCready, still killing people for caps?” He managed to keep his exterior relaxed, even pulled off a little half smile.

 

“Deacon. Still pretending to be anyone but yourself?”

 

“You call it pretending, I call it performance art. If everyone would only fight for their own ideals, there’d be no war. It’s people like you, willing to fight for anyone, that create half of the shit in the world.”

 

The Professor was studying them, her face unreadable. Why would she bring him here, of all places? Who said MacCready wouldn’t sell them out to the Institute at the first sign of a load of caps? Just because he was her new boyfriend?

 

“You’re acting so confident, I can’t tell if what you just said was very clever or very stupid.”

 

Deacon smirked. Of course she noticed his quote and served him back one. She could be such a fucking nerd sometimes, and usually he kind of loved that about her.

 

“Come one, Prof. You remember the big three for predicting people, right?”

 

“Beliefs, caps, and ego. Believe me, I know where I stand with him. Turns out, caps are surprisingly straightforward.”

 

_Ouch._

 

Deacon supposed he deserved no less, but seeing the smug look on MacCready’s face made his skin crawl, never mind the thought of the two of them in a hotel room… He involuntarily clenched his fists. The Prof noticed, but MacCready wasn’t that focused on the intricacies of human behaviour.

 

When the Professor had sent him away, back in Goodneighbour, he hadn’t listened. He wasn’t her underling, after all. He had figured he should keep an eye on her. Going through Kellogg’s memories had undoubtedly been quite the nightmare, which was made extra clear since she immediately dismissed him and Valentine. He quickly ducked in an alley, and changed into one of those outfits common among the drifters crowding the Goodneighbour streets. She spent a lot of time in the Third Rail, where he didn’t want to follow her for fear of being discovered in the small, closed off space. Then she came out following that damned merc.

 

The looks on their faces had said it all. After they’d disappeared into Hotel Rexford he had left Goodneighbour like he was being chased by the fucking devil. He hadn’t felt anything resembling that in decades. At least he’d contained his blowout to a small band of super mutants that were holed up just outside of town, but it had scared the shit out of him. The whole way back to HQ he’d been busy convincing himself it was better this way, he didn’t deserve her anyhow. Being her friend, having her help him, all of it was more than he’d ever deserved. He should just be grateful she wanted to help the Railroad.

 

If only she’d picked someone _else_ to hook up with. Valentine. Piper. Hell, even Garvey would’ve been better. It didn’t matter. _This is why you don’t get close, buddy._

 

Maybe he’d just imagined that they had become pals. When you’re lying all the time the truth can become somewhat of an alien concept. He knew a lot of people couldn’t stand him, even if he was pretty open about his lying all the time. Maybe she was tired of not knowing what to believe. He couldn’t exactly blame her for that.

 

“Hey, MacCready, could you wait outside for a minute? I need to talk to Deacon. Railroad business.”

 

Well, that was an obvious lie, but the merc shrugged, oblivious.

 

“Sure, boss. You up for some fetch, boy?”

 

Deacon watched MacCready leave, followed by an eagerly prancing Dogmeat. He waited to answer until he was out of earshot.

 

“What’s up, boss?”

 

She scowled at him, leaning against the same wall as he was.

 

“Oh, fuck you, Deacon… I mean, shit… I… I thought I saw a familiar face that night after I told you to leave me alone. I just wanted to ask, are we okay?”

 

Unsure, she gazed up at him. Fuck, he couldn’t even stay properly angry with her. He looked her in the eye, and was grateful for his sunglasses for the umpteenth time. He had wanted to say something poignant about trust and lying, but just seeing the slightly worried and pained look on her face was enough to leave him reeling with guilt. He was such an ass, spying on her, making her worry about him, while she was doing so much for the Railroad, for the Commonwealth. For him. Deacon still had some issues with her hiring a merc, but hey, MacCready had made a name for himself as competent, and at least she had someone watching her back. He didn’t have to like MacCready, as long as the merc got the job done. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out what else was going on between them.

 

“You don’t ever have to ask, friend. We’re good…” The relief on her face made Deacon realize he’d sacrifice a hell of a lot for her peace of mind, so he added, mustering as much cheer as he could. “…we’re golden.”

 

The lie came easy enough. He would get over it. Hell, there was nothing to get over. He would help her find her son. He would make sure she didn’t feel the need to hire mercenaries in the future. He would make sure to make her laugh, to give her advice, to watch her back…

 

The only thing he wouldn’t do for her, for anybody, was forsake his cause here with the Railroad. Those were the two things he wasn’t allowed to fuck up.

 

“Good, good… good talk.”

 

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you how to do your business, but technically, who you bring down here is also my business…”

 

“Who, MacCready? If I thought we couldn’t trust him, I wouldn’t have brought him here, Dee. I know how much depends on it. So, you coming?”

 

“Sure, if you say so. What are we up to? What have you been up to these past couple of weeks?”

 

What were they even doing? He felt like a moth, and she was a bright lantern in the night. He’d probably keep trying to fly in to it until it killed him. He tried to find some of his disguises, his cigarettes, throw them in his bag, all while keeping a casual look going. It was hard work. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

 

“Ah, the usual. Helped some settlers that were having trouble, took out some Gunners that were coming after MacCready, met up with Bobbi in Diamond City… and helped the USS Constitution get on to the next leg of its journey.”

 

“I don’t even know what to ask first. No wait, I do. The USS Constitution? I hear it’s parked up there for tax purposes.”

 

She laughed, and this time it seemed genuine.

 

“You’re not going to believe this, Deacon. So we’re just strolling around the ‘Wealth, right? Somewhere just north of Boston. Suddenly, we come across this huge ship, the old kind, all wood and sails and stuff, that’s just lodged in the roof of a bank. So I want to go up there, yeah?”

 

He had no trouble believing it.

 

“Of course you did, you can never resist a mystery.”

 

“Oh, wait ‘till I get to the _good_ part. That ship is completely manned by robots! The captain’s called Ironsides. They must’ve had access to official databases or something, because they knew my full name and everything, and they drafted me into the navy.”

 

“Oh man, you mean I could’ve finally found out your real name, but I wasn’t around? And you got enlisted?”

 

It was one of the things nobody he’d come across knew about her apart from Codsworth, who couldn’t be bribed or threatened into parting with the information, and he was both annoyed and fascinated by it. Upon reflection, it might have something to do with nobody alive knowing his real name either. He didn’t have the hacking skills to change that, and thought it morally ambiguous to do so anyway. It was hard to dig up dirt on someone who’d skipped roughly 200 years of history. Made him appreciate how hard he’d worked to disappear from the records more. Even today, it seemed someone was always keeping track.

 

“Why do I always miss out on the _fun_ adventures? How come I get stuck with creepy-cave duty, or zombie-hunting duty?”

 

A twisted smile crept across her face.

 

“Must be karma. Are you done packing, princess?”

 

She punched him on the shoulder, and while they made their way outside she told him how she helped the crew of the USS Constitution until the frigate could take off with the huge rockets that were attached to the sides, and crashed atop a skyscraper. She planned to visit it somewhere in the future, to see if the crew was alright, so Deacon made her promise to take him along. He’d just have to brave the height, because he had to see this for himself.

 

Gradually, he felt a tension leave his neck and shoulders, like knots that were slowly being untied. Fuck, could he keep on doing this? Believing she despised him, feeling relieved when things seemed to go back to normal, or whatever approximation of normal he’d gotten used to since he hung out with her. He wasn’t really good with the highs and lows.

 

In his life he’d grown accustomed to long stretches of ‘not so great’ with a helping of ‘but I’ll act like it is’, and intermittent ‘holy crap could it get any worse’. However, the miserable have no medicine but hope, and ever since the Professor came walking into their crypt under Old North Church, he’d been feeling that most dangerous of feelings.

 

The point was, he’d gotten used to the Sisyphean task of trying to save synths from the Institute. It was his penitence, an unending task he was bound to. And there she was, suddenly it seemed more and more possible that they would infiltrate the Institute. Bring it all down. Or up, probably, since the Institute was most likely underground.

 

He didn’t have a contingency plan for winning. Besides, these were all only possibilities, he shouldn’t even get his hopes up. It just left you vulnerable. _Don’t ever let your guard down. When you do, inevitably that’s when everything goes to hell._

 

Then there was the issue of him having a friend, someone who actually seemed to trust him on some implicit, personal level. Not once in his life had this led to a good outcome. People usually died. If the Professor hadn’t been so important to the Railroad, he probably would have tucked tail and ran at the first signs of all these things. Popped a stealth boy and bugged out, like the coward he was. But he hadn’t, and here they were. She was even worse than he was, with the mixed signals and her approach/avoid tactics.

 

Outside, they were joined by MacCready and Dogmeat. Deacon couldn’t help himself.

 

“You pups had a fun time playing outside? It’s time to go now, though, boys.”

 

The merc scoffed and grabbed his rifle, but Dogmeat happily ran towards Deacon to receive some scratches behind his ears.

 

“That mutt of yours has no taste, boss.” MacCready complained, while adjusting his cap.

 

The Professor rolled her eyes at both of them.

 

“We seem to share that problem, like dog, like owner and all that.” More to herself than her company, she continued. “This is going to be a _fun_ trip.”

 

Deacon grinned when he saw how MacCready was eyeing him. _Yeah, he’s not plotting revenge at all. Bring it on, sucker._ After they set off in a westerly direction, crossing the Charles River at the first chance, Deacon decided to beat MacCready to the punch.

 

“Hey, MacCready, I hear you’ve permanently cut ties with the Gunners? Is it normal for mercs to ask their employer for help with something like that?”

 

“I actually gave her the money back when we took care of Winlock and Barnes, so she’s not my employer. I help her and she helps me, you know, like friends do? For now I’m good, but the only way to permanently cut ties with Gunners is to end up face down in the dirt. I’ve got a bounty on my head for sure.”

 

Huh. No innuendo in the way he said ‘friends’. He looked at the Professor, but couldn’t find any disagreement on her face. So, friends then?

 

“Really? Gunners have had bounties on me. Well, me under different names and faces. I want to see how many slots I can fill on their most wanted list. Seems you’ve taken one of my spots.”

 

MacCready looked at him with narrowed eyes. He kind of liked getting under the merc’s skin.

 

“So, Deacon, talking about your names and faces, how old are you, really? It’s hard to tell after all that surgery.”

 

“Let’s just say I look pretty good for my age.”

 

“You must be ancient if you consider _that_ looking good.”

 

The Professor laughed. “Watch your step there, Mac. According to Tinker, Dee here may be a time traveller. So who knows how old that makes him.”

 

MacCready was quick to respond.

 

“Bullshit. That doesn’t exist.” And then, when the others remained silent. “Or does it?”

 

Deacon, meanwhile, was shaking his head.

 

“You’ve been snooping around in HQ, Prof? I told Tinker the amount of security on his terminal isn’t exactly proportional to his usual paranoia, but he said he wasn’t worried about physical break-ins, because we’d all be screwed anyway.”

 

“Don’t try to change the subject here, mister time-traveller. Come on, you can tell us, we’re all friends here.”

 

 _All friends? Really?_ Glancing at MacCready, he raised his hand to rub his head, but remembered he’d thrown on a wig and it would just end up crooked on his head, so he adjusted his sunglasses instead. Thanks again, glasses.

 

“If you’ve been on Tinker’s terminal, you already know that’s not the case.”

 

“Oh come on, Deacon. If you’re going with the multiverse interpretation, and you assume travel between parallel universes is possible, you’d still end up with a whole bunch of universes where knowledge of you being a time traveller couldn’t be erased. It’s the nature of the beast! So what, exactly, would exclude this timeline?” And, to MacCready. “There was an entry on Tinker’s terminal where he suspected Deacon is a time-traveller, but someone left a comment questioning if he’d leave a timeline where Tinker knew he knew.”

 

MacCready just looked at the Professor, face full of confusion. Okay, babbling was one of his last saves, but he was good at it.

 

“Damn. I really thought Tinker would catch that, too. Must be all the chems he’s taking. So, say it is true. What would you want to know?”

 

She was grinning ear to ear now. Was she really this happy just because he was indulging her? He found it hard to imagine. Why send him away and leave him at HQ for weeks if their teasing and lying made her this happy?

 

“You two are such huge dorks. Why the he- why are we talking about this? If he’s a time traveller, obviously he’s from the future, right? How could he travel from the past? What would be the use?”

 

MacCready looked kind of confused at the topic and annoyed at being excluded from the conversation up until this point.

 

“Isn’t he adorable, Prof? You’ve got this, right?” Deacon smirked.

 

“Right. Theoretically, there is a way to travel to the future, using a principle called time dilation. That would mean travelling away from earth and back again slightly slower than light-speed, but you could probably only win a year on like, a century long journey. So you’d be travelling for a hundred years and when you got back a hundred-and-one years have passed on earth. Something like that.”

 

Fuck, Deacon loved it when she went on one of her little orations. It was like she didn’t even notice the people she was talking to anymore, like she was transported to another space. Her eyes sort of glazed over, and gained major sparkles in the process, like women in comics often had. Occasionally her forehead would wrinkle while she weighed how to express her thoughts. So fucking adorable. She wasn’t finished yet, either.

 

“You could also create time dilation by sitting in a superdense object, that way the difference in the relative passing of time could be made larger. So you could travel further while aging less than with the travel method, does that make sense?”

 

Did she actually believe he was a time traveller? That didn’t seem too likely. Although it was a theoretical possibility, she was smart enough to realise the probability of that scenario. So was she just feeding his tendency to spin grandiose tales, then? Humouring him? Or was that wishful thinking on his side? Was she just looking for something to talk about? He instantly hated himself for seeking ulterior motives behind everything. It was just that he was already looking for signs that the situation was going up in smoke.

 

She continued. ”There are a few ways to travel to the past, too. One way would be faster-than-light travel, but the amounts of energy needed to achieve that for an object… are prohibitive. Another way would be travelling through a wormhole, but that would require manipulating the wormhole, and you probably couldn’t go further back in time than the initial creation of that wormhole. So that means that either there’s basically unlimited energy in the future, or time travel has already been invented. Plus it’s questionable if the past can even be changed in any meaningful way.”

 

It was pretty clear MacCready phased out somewhere during her second sentence, although the Professor only now seemed to notice, so she directed her attention back to Deacon. Fuck, and he still had no idea what to say. Better make this good, buddy.

 

“So tell me, mister time-traveller, why are you here?”

 

He cleared his throat. _Buy yourself some time._

 

“First of all, mister time-traveller sounds incredibly condescending. The preferred term is temponaut.”

 

The Professor snorted, and MacCready seemed to regain some interest in the conversation. _Here we go, Deacon._

 

“The merc was right. I’m obviously from the future. We use exotic matter to travel through time, but don’t ask me how. I’m an operative, not a scientist. I’ve been sent back to prevent a major disaster from happening.”

 

“A bit fuc-, a bit late, aren’t you?” MacCready asked.

 

“Not the Big One, you idiot. Too many different factors colliding. Our scientists couldn’t find the strand that would unravel it all. But this one hasn’t happened yet, and our records showed an interesting… rogue variable. One that could maybe be persuaded… influenced.”

 

He looked at the Professor. She had that slight half smile around her lips again. She probably didn’t believe him, or her poker face had improved by leaps and bounds. The term rogue variable had her raising an eyebrow though. MacCready cleared his throat.

 

“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that you’re from the future and trying to prevent some sort of unknown disaster.”

 

“Hey, I don’t expect you to do anything. Believe what you want man. I got it off my chest.”

 

“Boss, I don’t understand how you can trust someone that’s always lying.”

 

Deacon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’re a real expert when it comes to telling the truth, aren’t you, MacCready? You tell her why you’re here yet? In the Commonwealth, I mean.”

 

MacCready had to owe him the answer, because they’d stumbled into a small swarm of bloodbugs. Now that he was alerted, Deacon could see the exsanguinated cadaver of a brahmin right in front of him. Great. Dogmeat already had one of the monstrous bugs pinned to the ground, so he aimed his rifle, and took it out. Within a few minutes half a dozen bugs were splattered across the ground. The Professor was visibly shaken. A more dangerous red widow variant had almost managed to stab her with its proboscis before she managed to finish it off with the butt of her rifle.

 

“Fuck! I fucking hate those things. Fucking mosquitos always have been out for me.”

 

MacCready flinched with every ‘fuck’ that left her lips. She planted her boot against the limp body of the bug in question with such force that she kicked it over Dogmeat, who jumped aside anxiously. It broke the tension, and abruptly they were all laughing.

 

“I’m sorry, boy, come on over here.”

 

Dogmeat ran up to her, pleased she wasn’t angry, and the Professor got down on one knee to cuddle him. Looking up at the sun, she said “Let’s just get back to Sanctuary.”                                                                                                            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope at least _some_ people enjoy the time travel drabble, and that it's not too confusing/distracting for the rest, it's a topic I'm into and figured I could use some of my research on it ([wikipedia link](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_travel))
> 
> Also, I hope that the Deacon/MacCready dynamic is okay, not too little or too much?
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Don't be shy, leave a kudo or comment if you like :)


	10. Telling Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue and Deacon reconnect, kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new spoiler warnings here.
> 
> Titlesong: [Tracy Chapman - _Telling stories_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wapCTd5fS2Y)

Blue wondered how stupid it had been, bringing MacCready to HQ. In the last few weeks, she’d come to know him as a light-hearted and friendly guy. She had been pretty clear about the extent of their relationship after that one night, and he seemed okay with that. Maybe even a little relieved.

 

They had fun on the road. It was nice to have a friend that was a little less observant than Nick, Piper, or Deacon usually were. Then again, he knew next to nothing about her, other than she was looking for her kid and helping a lot of people, so it made sense. It had taken a few weeks before she realized she was getting more reckless, more aggressive. It became easier to brush away concerns about collateral damage, easier not to think of the bodies in her wake. If she only travelled with the merc, she’d turn in to one. Not that MacCready was heartless. He was the kind of good man this fucking world created, the kind there was room for. People like Preston, Nick and Deacon were the exceptions, the few that still acted selfless, or tried to in their own ways. Could she count herself among them?

 

The biggest problems she’d found with MacCready so far were his tendency to care more about caps than the random people across the ‘Wealth, and his predilection to solve problems with violence a lot more often than she was used to. She was pretty sure he’d walk through fire for the few people he cared about, however.

 

She wondered if that was Deacon’s problem with him too. Most of Deacon’s time was spent risking his neck for people he hardly knew. She hadn’t really seen him that antagonistic before, and he usually held ideologies in higher regard than his personal feelings about people, so it was hard to picture him being, well, jealous.

 

Blue could hear both men moving behind her, even though they were all sneaking. They had kept to themselves after their little confrontation with the bloodbugs, reminded of the inherent dangers that came with traversing the wasteland. She rubbed the spot on her chest where one of the nasties had nearly stung her, and involuntarily shuddered. She hated bloodbugs more than any other fucked up wasteland creature. That feeling when one of them got their proboscis in you… or getting your own blood thrown back in your face.

 

_Yuck._

 

Next time it could be a band of super mutants, and hell, if one of those Suiciders could get that close they’d all be splattered across the rocks.

 

They were almost at the Red Rocket Truck stop, which she had converted into an outpost for the Minutemen. From there, Sanctuary was like a half minute walk. She planned on heating up some water so she could take a nice long bath, and turning in early.

 

Even now, half the houses in Sanctuary were still decrepit and in ruins, but rebuilding was well underway. She had started renovating the houses that stood around a roundabout with a huge tree in the middle, so everyone could have their own place. For now, Mama Murphy shared a house with Sturges and Preston, the Longs shared a house, and two more houses were shared by the six settlers that had joined them here so far. She tried to spread out the new settlers coming in at the Starlight Drive-in, where she’d set up a broadcast signal, by diverting them to other settlements. People needed to know there were safe places they could go, places with food, water, beds, and protection. In between her new house and the others stood the first building she’d erected, a common room with cooking facilities and a bar, with a communal bedroom on top, which was now reserved for newcomers and traders passing through. Her new house, where she also had all the workbenches set up, was across the road from her old house.

 

At first MacCready slept in the extra bed in her room, but it was kind of awkward, so she put a bed in the room that once held the kitchen. She’d have to clear a house again soon, to make room for the ever growing population.

 

The latest addition to her house was a bathroom, opposite her bedroom, complete with tub. One afternoon, she’d sat down with a pencil and some papers, and designed a rudimentary boiler to heat up water. Although she was pretty handy with tools and could fix up armour and weapons in a pinch, her expertise was more of a theoretical nature, so she’d brought Sturges in on the project. After some back and forth they’d constructed the thing, and it worked like a charm. Honestly, it felt like her greatest achievement yet. Nothing like hanging around in warm water for a good hour or so to make you feel human again. After word spread, she and Sturges quickly built a bathroom next to the common room as well, so she didn’t have to share her bathtub with everyone. Being on the road so much, she figured she deserved some creature comforts at least.

 

When they came strolling into Sanctuary Hills they were greeted by Codsworth, who immediately offered to heat them up some food. It was pretty late, and the spotlights she’d installed on some of the roofs followed them as they made their way along the empty street to the common room. Dogmeat ran off to drink from the bowls next to his doghouse. All three of them threw their packs off, and MacCready walked over to Buddy.

 

“You up for a beer, boss?”

 

“Sure, thanks.”

 

“Why yes, MacCready, I’d love one of those delicious ice cold Gwinnet Brews that can’t be found anywhere else in the Commonwealth.” Deacon did not like being excluded from drinks.

 

MacCready scoffed, but came walking back with three beers nonetheless. Deacon had managed to slip into his Minutemen outfit, a habit of his whenever they were in one of the settlements Blue helped set up. She didn’t know how many disguises he carried with him, but he had his favourites wherever they went. On several occasions she’d caught him in his tighty whities while he was trying to change on the go, when he figured they were entering somewhere inhabited. They’d barely opened their beers when Codsworth came up to the table with a bowl of squirrel stew for each of them.

 

“I do so wish I could present you with more adequate food for once, mum.”

 

“Isn’t she working you too hard, Codsworth? You know you have rights, right? Like, to have a day off, or something.”

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, mister Deacon. Since mum has picked up such… colourful companions, I already have too much time to myself. Two hundred years without people to care for was quite enough for me, honestly, I’m just happy to be preparing meals once again.”

 

“And you do great work with what you have, Codsworth. I can barely taste the squirrel.”

 

“Thank you, mum. I just wish I had the right ingredients to make a nice chowder, or some baked beans, like I used to back in the day.”

 

“Wait, you know Old World recipes? Prof, we gotta get this bot some stuff to cook with!”

 

Blue laughed at Deacon’s enthusiasm. MacCready, meanwhile, was hunched over his stew, shovelling it into his mouth while it was still hot.

 

“I don’t get what you guys are complaining about. This is fu-... friggin' fan-tas-tic. That robot can cook.”

 

*                      *                      *

 

When she finally got to her bath, Blue was pretty tired. It felt so great to let herself sink into the embrace of the hot water, that she wondered why she hadn’t thought of bathtubs earlier on. She laid back and slowly let the water soak all the dirt and grime from her body. With her eyes closed and the back of her head resting against the tub, she let herself just exist for a little while. There was only the warm, relaxing water, the cool night air, and the radio that was playing in the living room. The world was friendly and soft and there was no need to think at all.

 

She didn’t know if she’d drifted off to sleep, but suddenly the water was lukewarm at best, so she grabbed a bar of soap to wash her hair. Man, did she miss conditioner. Her hair always came out a tangled mess nowadays, but at least it smelled nice. The jaw length hair and undercut were a godsend, though. Stepping out of the tub, goose bumps spread over her skin. She quickly grabbed the towel and dried herself a little, then wrapped it around her torso and crossed the little hallway to her bedroom. Hopefully she’d be able to get some decent rest tonight. She found her hairbrush on the shelf above her bed. Best to take care of her hair now, or it would be totally unmanageable in the morning. She froze halfway through her movement when she heard a voice behind her.

 

“Gosh, I’m feeling awfully overdressed right now. You could have warned me about how seriously you take casual attire in your room.”

 

Blue felt the blood rush to her face.

 

Deacon was quick to add “Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

 

The towel barely covered her ass to begin with, and she’d been reaching for her hairbrush… the view probably left little to the imagination. She snatched the bathrobe that hung next to the door and wrapped it around her body as she turned around. Deacon smirked at her.

 

“Now that’s a real shame.”

 

He was sitting on the bed with his back propped up against the wall, magazine in his hands.

 

“Couldn’t you warn me you were in here?”

 

Blue realized he’d seen it all before, but somehow that just made it worse.

 

“I can’t help it that you’ve gotten so sneaky. You should wear a bell when we’re in Sanctuary, so everyone can hear you coming. I’m pretty sure it’d save poor Garvey from a heart attack. You sneak up to him so often to tell him about all the settlements that you’ve helped. Makes me wonder exactly who the General of the Minutemen is.”

 

She grabbed her hairbrush and sat down on her own bed, carefully untangling her damp hair.

 

“Good leadership means knowing how to delegate. I don’t have time to coordinate everyone over the radio. Plus I can’t stand those damned strings playing on a loop.”

 

“Yeah, about that, couldn’t you use your influence as general to change that tune? Civilization by Danny Kaye and the Andrew sisters, maybe? Seems appropriate.”

 

“Oh, yeah, like that wouldn’t drive everyone completely bonkers.”

 

They just sat in silence for a while, Blue still struggling with her hair, until she realized he hadn’t turned the page once.

 

“Interesting read?”

 

He actually looked at the cover before answering. “Yeah, I’m totally into… err… the bright side of radiation poisoning. Looking for a way to achieve that healthy post apocalyptic glow, you know?”

 

Blue couldn’t help but laugh as Deacon threw the issue of Wasteland Survival Guide on the coffee table in between their beds. _Busted!_

 

“Liar.”

 

“Yeah, you totally saw through my masterfully crafted deception. I must be getting rusty.”

 

“Maybe you should practice some more. Come on, Deacon, lie to me. You know you want to.”

 

Blue made herself comfortable, lying back against the comfy pillows she’d found. So much better than those prickly straw pillows. Deacon stared at the wall, his eyes hidden behind his eternal sunglasses, even now in the semi dark. He wasn’t wearing his wig, nor one of his hats, so the moon reflected lightly off of his head. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his lower arms. She liked the way he looked in simple outfits. This way she could almost imagine him as a farmer, as just a guy instead of one of the foremost spies of an underground organisation dedicated to rescuing the disenfranchised. Maybe that meant she could imagine herself as just a farmer too, one day.

 

“What do you want me to lie about?”

 

“Wow, you are out of practice, aren’t you? Let’s see… tell me I’m making the right decisions, that we’re all getting along, that I’ll find Shaun and we’ll save all the synths and bring down the Institute, and we ride off into the night and live happily ever after without ever seeing the Commonwealth again.”

 

“I can’t. Plus, you’ve basically said it all yourself now.”

 

Okay, that was certainly unexpected. She just looked at him, the question in her eyes instead of on her lips. He sighed.

 

“Okay, you want me to lie to you, about your story. Fine.”

 

He got comfortable, and lit a cigarette for good measure. She knew he could lie on the fly if he had to, but the better lies, the masterpieces, they were well thought out. Carefully sculpted, rehearsed, with little flaws to make them indistinguishable from the real thing. She imagined he had a treasure-trove full of them in his head, and whenever he was alone, or lost in thought, he’d take his lies out one by one, polishing them like cherished keepsakes. Adding layers of sarcasm and double meaning, so that an observant listener could learn the lessons he liked to dole out. Adding little truths too, because that is what makes lies most believable, just the right amount of truth. They didn’t need to be his truths, of course. That was why he liked to listen to people wherever he went. Deacon cleared his throat.

 

“When you came out of the vault, I hoped like hell that you would just die. A quick death seemed like a mercy, compared to what the ‘Wealth has to offer someone like you. Since then, you’ve taken every wrong turn possible. Saving the survivors from Quincy, rescuing Valentine from that vault, hell, finding and joining the Railroad of your own accord: no sane person would do such things. You’re most likely delusional.”

 

Blue stared at him in disbelief. What the hell was he saying? She’d expected a soothing fairy-tale to fall asleep to, not… this, whatever it was. But her reaction only seemed to spur him on.

 

“Honestly, Prof, I expect you will doom everybody in the Railroad, and the Minutemen too. Because in the end you’re not about helping people, you’re looking for your son. That single-mindedness will lead to your own defeat, of course, because you can only stab so many people in the back before it comes back to bite you, so no, you won’t find your son. And by the way, that one night? That was just a pity-fuck, don’t think I’m jealous of that pint-sized merc, I just don’t particularly like him. I don’t even know why I hang around you, other than Dez forcing me to.”

 

“Wow. That wasn’t exactly the night-time story I was looking for.”

 

Blue was watching Deacon, but he refused to look her way, instead blowing circles of smoke to the ceiling.

 

“Thank you, anyway. Your vote of confidence means a lot. And about MacCready…”

 

Fuck, when she’d learned how old the kid really was, she’d been ashamed of herself. Of course, like everyone nowadays, he’d been through a lot. Everyone was forced to grow up early now. But back in her day, he’d barely be out of college. It would have been a scandal, something the other women in the neighbourhood would have gossiped about. Something he could brag about to his mates. It made her sad for him, and, what was worse all things considering, brought out her motherly side. She had been struggling like hell to not let him in on that fact, because she was kind of afraid it would wound his ego. She realized Deacon was watching her now, so she opened her mouth to continue, but he interrupted her the moment he had her attention.

 

“Listen, Prof, you don’t owe me any explanation. It’s not like I’ve been celibate all these years.”

 

That made her smile. “I wouldn’t imagine, a smooth talker like you.”

 

“I know my way around people. Seriously though, I know things happen when you spend a lot of time together with people. And I know it’s best not to get attached.”

 

Blue rolled over to her side so she was facing him, and watched him intently. He was pushing out his cigarette in an ashtray, the tendons of his lower arm visibly twitching as he exerted pressure.

 

“What happens when you do get attached?”

 

“You want me to lie again? You live happily ever after.”

 

So, that was that, then. She sighed, and Deacon seemed to sense she was looking for something more, that his answer wasn’t enough.

 

“Why, you’ve grown attached to the kid?”

 

“God no, Deacon. I mean, I care what happens to him, but… just no.”

 

Did he really not see? Or was he just trying to let her down easy? She closed her eyes, gathering courage. Fuck, everything was easy with this guy, except being honest. Maybe she should just lie, too. Tell him she couldn’t stand his guts, that she hated him. But really, she desperately wanted a way through these walls they’d both erected, before they became insurmountable. Maybe they already were. Maybe she didn’t even fucking know right from wrong anymore.

 

“Well, I’m not your supervisor, so you don’t owe me an explanation regardless. Or maybe I kind of am your supervisor. But I totally trust your judgement on the matter.”

 

Maybe it was just that she was getting tired, but she couldn’t even tell if it was sarcasm anymore.

 

“You really don’t think it could ever work out?”

 

He sighed. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you? I guess it depends on the people involved. It’s hard enough for the regular folks out there, and you have tons more going on in your life. On the other hand, stuff seems to work out for you. Or better put, you make it work out. Enough life lessons for tonight?”

 

“Sure. Are you coming along to the Prydwen tomorrow?”

 

“Ah, the Brotherhood. Elitism, Power Armour, xenophobia, and racial purging. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Goodnight, Prof.”

 

While Deacon was dozing off, Blue laid awake, thinking. He was right. She did make things work out. Not only would she find Shaun and save him and as many synths as possible from the Institute, she would find a way to make Deacon admit he had feelings for her. And while she was at it, she’d find a way to admit her own feelings to him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, from what I've heard I'm like, a huge tease, but I'll get them back together, I promise! Next chapter, maybe?  
> Let me know what you think of the developments so far, and thanks for reading!


	11. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon & Blue just visited the Prydwen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new spoilers.
> 
> Titlesong: [Arctic Monkeys - _Do I wanna know?_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM)

“You know, there is a lot to be said about good old terra firma, right? Right?”

 

Deacon noticed the edge in his own voice. It was just he really, really disliked heights, and they were way up on the flight deck of the Prydwen, getting ready to board a vertibird. He tried keeping his eyes on the horizon, he’d heard that that could help. The whole thing was made even worse by the fact that there wasn’t actually anything substantial beneath his feet, other than what basically boiled down to sheet metal. No, scratch that, the worst thing was definitely the Professor laughing and poking fun at him.

 

“Come on, Dee, the view is marvellous! I think I can see my house from here…”

 

He shook his head and climbed aboard the vertibird. The pilot had agreed to drop them off at Cambridge Police Station, which was nice, but they’d be flying, again. Fuck, he just wanted solid ground beneath his feet. The Prof jumped aboard, all wide-eyed and grinning from ear to ear. Her time in the 'Wealth had marked her, but she was beautiful. He'd taken the trouble to put on a BoS uniform, but she hadn't bothered with anything like that. Instead, she was just wearing a green shirt with jeans and combat boots, the usual armour strapped over her limbs and torso. Compared to all the idiots aboard the airship in their clunky Power Armours or uniforms resembling flight suits she looked downright casual. And, even more sexy than usual. It got to him more than usual, too. On a few occasions he'd wondered if she was provoking him on purpose. The way she'd leaned in close when he'd been rifling through the terminals aboard the Prydwen, hand on his shoulder. The way she was teasing him even more, the way she smiled at him, it all seemed designed to get to him. Most likely, it was all in his head. On the surface, their relationship seemed pretty stable, but underneath things were constantly shifting. Not knowing what to do about it made him high-strung as a deathclaw on Psycho. He hid it as best as he could, of course. The Professor prodded him in his side, offering him a piece of bubblegum.

 

"Wow, where did you get that, buddy?"

 

"It's best not to ask questions you don't want to know the answer too, sweetheart"

 

Just the act of chewing gum gave him something to focus on, other than that they were flying in what amounted to a tin can. _Oh fuck, don't go there again_. He needed something to distract him, and looked at the Professor. Why was she suddenly so quiet? She was actually blowing bubbles now, first a small one, but the next one obscured more than half her face. He laughed at how ridiculous she looked: full combat gear, weapons strapped to her body, blue hair, and a huge pink bubble in front of her face. She carefully sucked the gum back in her mouth, and made a face at him, eyes crossed, nose and mouth screwed up. When she tried another bubble he paid close attention to her face, trying to mimic her technique. He rolled the gum into a ball between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, squished it against the back of his teeth, and very gingerly stuck his tongue into the gum and out his mouth. Slowly, he started blowing air in, until he could retract his tongue. Breathing in through his nose, he managed a reasonably sized bubble, and he looked at the Prof triumphantly.

 

She cocked one eyebrow. "Nice technique, Deacon. You sure know how to use your tongue, don't you?"

 

It didn't happen to him that often, but she caught him off guard, and his blood had been pumped full of adrenaline because of the height, and _oh fuck_ he felt the blood rushing to his face. What was _up_ with her today? Her tone, the looks, the nicknames... For a second he wondered if she was _genuinely_ flirting with him. But no, that couldn't be it. They'd been casually flirting for as long as they'd known each other. There had never been any signs she was serious, were there? Just wishful thinking on his part. He shrugged. The bubble had pitifully deflated by now, so he tried again, a larger bubble this time. Having your mouth full of gum was a good reason not to come up with a comeback, wasn't it? He tried to make this one larger than the Professor's, kept on blowing, but before it even approached that size it popped, covering his face in gum. The Professor was in tears from laughing.

 

"At lea- haha, at least you don't... you don't have long... hair for it to get stuck in." She was having trouble getting her breath back under control, and was wiping tears from her eyes. The pilot of the vertibird looked back at them, giving him a very disapproving look before initiating the landing. At least the flying was almost over.

 

He plucked at the pieces of gum on his face. "I do have eyebrows, you know? Glasses saved me again." She started laughing again, a new tear streaming down her face. He tried to look at her as sternly as the pilot had done to him, but realized the sight of the pink gum all over his face was probably sabotaging his chances of success. She looked out the window, and turned back to him, still giggling.

 

"Let me give you a hand with that."

 

The Professor started plucking bits of gum from his face. _Damn, why was she sitting so close?_ She'd pulled up her leg so it was leaning against his side, and brought her face close to his, inspecting the right side of his face. Her fingers had gotten rough from her time in the 'Wealth, and the scar that split her lip, from her first encounter with a deathclaw, twitched while she was laughing softly to herself. He felt his heart pick up its pace. _Dammit, Deacon, what kind of rookie are you?_ The vertibird stumbled a bit as it landed, and her hand brushed against his own before she could readjust herself.

 

The pilot grumbled "We're here."

 

The poor fella was obviously wondering what the Brotherhood's newest recruit was doing with this clown. Then he caught the pilot looking at the Professor. _He is checking her out._ Deacon grinned to himself. Following a rationale he later couldn't quite recall, he jumped out of the vertibird.

 

"Here, let me help you."

 

He grabbed the Prof around the waist and, while lifting her out, stared blatantly in the face of the pilot. Staring so intently in fact, she took him quite by surprise when she wrapped her arms around his neck. With her lips against his ear, she whispered "For whose benefit are we putting on this show, exactly? Not that I'm complaining, by the way." He swirled around and put her down, but she still had her arms around his neck, so he didn't let go either. She winked, then leaned in and kissed him.

 

It took Deacon's mind a few seconds to catch up to his body that, like it had a mind of its own, immediately responded by tightening his grip and kissing her back. It was a gentle but deliberate kiss, on her part at least. He heard the vertibird taking off, but she didn't pull back. Internally, he sighed, trying to find the mental fortitude to let go. She had her eyes closed. Oh man, why did she look so peaceful? Carefully, he put on hand on her jaw, his thumb on her cheek, and broke from the kiss.

 

It was so easy to forget all the stuff the Professor had been through. Clearly she was more messed up than he'd realized. Why else, out of all people she'd gotten to know since she left the vault, would she choose his company, when he least deserved it? Hell, even MacCready was better than he was, at least the guy was honest about his faults. Big green eyes were looking up at him, expectantly, probing.

 

"Well, I'm sure we've thoroughly confused that poor pilot." He didn't add how he felt the same. Why had he even grabbed her like that? Something in the pilot's gaze had awakened something... _possessive_ in him. What was he, twelve? _That's my toy!_ It was fucking disgusting. And, she… she'd winked, _winked_ , and kissed him. _She must have terrible self-esteem issues. She knows what I've done._ He dropped his hands to his sides the moment he realized he was still holding her.

 

"I wonder what his report to his superior will look like. _New Knight fraternizes with unknown recruit who displayed questionable decorum by getting bubblegum all over his face._ "

 

She let him go, too, seeming somewhat dejected. "I don't really care what they say. It's a shame we couldn't find any details on their endgame, though. I did get a fair amount of caps for those technical documents."

 

"Yeah pal, keep racking up your bank account like that and I might need to teach you a little game I call 'poker'."

 

"That sounds mildly intriguing. What kind of game is it?"

 

The Brotherhood personnel on the roof were giving them confused looks, so they started inside. Deacon was shaking his head in disbelief.

 

"You're not seriously telling me you've never even heard of poker. Anyone without a Prewar history, sure, but not you."

 

"Are you calling me a liar, Deacon? Reminds me of this story I once heard, about a pot..."

 

"And a kettle. I know I'm one to talk, but as they say: takes one to know one."

 

"Touché. I have heard of poker. Nate used to play once a week with his buddies."

 

"So you can play?"

 

"A little bit. He always thought it was more of a men's thing."

 

Deacon's brow furrowed. A men's thing? The only 'men's thing' he could think of was peeing standing up. And, to be honest, he'd met a few women who could pee standing up too, so that didn't even count.

 

She must have noticed his confusion, because she continued, "I know you like to look at the Old World through rose tinted glasses, but not everything was that great, you know? I hate to even think it but... a few things may actually be better now. Although, now it's not women that get the short end of the stick, it's ghouls and synths. Maybe it's just who we are." She looked at him.

 

"It seems that way."

 

He hadn't realized the Professor may not have been free to do whatever, before the war. Hadn't realized there could be something to stop her, she seemed like such a force of nature. Hadn't she always been like that?

 

As they left Cambridge Police Station, the sun beamed down on them. They'd travelled to the Prydwen under the cover of night, and spent most of the day snooping around on board. Despite the lack of useful intel, their bags were chockfull of ammunition, mines, and junk, so the trip hadn't been a complete bust. When the Professor got distracted by a couple of feral dogs Deacon quickly changed into his road leathers. He had a hidden compartment in his bag that could hold up to five outfits, just for the purpose of costume changes. While she cut some of the meat from the carcasses, he scanned the air. Yup, there were ravens approaching. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and wished she would hurry. When she got back up she gave him one look, and asked "What's up?"

 

He nodded towards the birds. "Those could be Watchers, the Institute's eyes in the sky. Synths."

 

The ravens were moving in on the remains of the dogs. One particularly cheeky specimen hopped ahead of the rest, looked at them, and started picking at an eye.

 

"Seems like natural enough behaviour to me."

 

"Yeah, because synths would totally be doing the robot and making bleeping noises, not acting natural. This is why I prefer to travel at night."

 

"It's only a few more hours till sundown. We could rest for a bit, if you want to."

 

They found a house off College Square where the doors were still intact, and made their way inside. Without Dogmeat it was almost scary to clear the building of ferals. They were so quiet the ferals mostly remained dormant, which meant one hell of a scare when you nearly stepped on them and they suddenly came to life. The two of them managed without any blood spilled on their end. There wasn't much left inside in the way of furniture, but Deacon found an old mattress on a broken bed. Thrown on the ground, against a wall, it made a comfortable enough place to sit. He rubbed his forehead. His body felt tired, but his mind was still racing. He doubted he'd be able to sleep, even though the room they were in lacked any natural light. The Professor was rummaging in her pack next to the oil lamp she'd just lit. The room they were in was run-down, with only one cupboard being in a somewhat functional state. There were still a few pieces of mouldy wallpaper left, but for the most part the brick wall was bare.

 

"You really take me to the nicest places, Prof."

 

She smiled at him. "I know, right? So when are _you_ going to take me some place nice?"

 

"Hey, I'm just following you around, Boss." He picked a stock of cards from one of the small pockets on his bag. "You up for some five card draw? Or are you going to sleep?"

 

"Don't you need four people to play poker?"

 

"It's usually more fun, yes, but unless you want to find and invite some ferals over, the two of us will have to do."

 

"Last time I checked you didn't have a cap to your name. What are you gonna play with?"

 

Fuck, why did his mind immediately go to strip poker? Maybe it was because he could remember how her body felt when pressed against his. Maybe, just maybe, it was because he desperately wanted a chance to make love to her, and not just fuck her like some drunken pickup. _No, no, no, bad thoughts. Don't go there_.

 

"Tell you what," she smirked. "We'll combine it with a game we used to play in college, truth or dare. Have you heard of it?"

 

"No, but it sounds pretty straight forward."

 

"It is. So, loser gets to choose, no backsies. And _real_ truths, Deacon. About yourself."

 

"Fair enough. First you have to win, though."

 

That sounded like it was about as close to strip poker as was possible without it actually being, well, strip poker. He shuffled the cards, but when he wanted to start dealing she stopped him. "Wait, shouldn't we.. what do they call it? Up the ante?"

 

He laughed. "Sure, close enough. I'll take a dare."

 

The Professor tutted. "I can see that you haven't played truth or dare before. Put me down for truth, thanks."

 

Deacon started dealing them both five cards face down, one by one. The Professor shifted so she was facing him, and took her cards in her hand. No real signs on her face pointing either way, so he picked his up, too. A king and queen of hearts, seven of spades, two and five clubs. Not too bad.

 

"So, and now? Fold, bet, raise, what are my options?"

 

"Since we're not playing for anything, you know, material, let's keep it simple. Fold or bet should be okay." He looked at her expectantly.

 

"Okay, I'm in."

 

"Me too. So, you wanna draw?"

 

She stared at her cards, twitching her mouth in frustration, then threw down three cards. He smiled to himself and dealt her three new cards. _Keep the two pair and hope for three of a kind? Or ditch all the non-royalty?_ He decided on the cautious route, two pair wasn't that bad, and threw the seven on her discarded cards. "I'll take one." A six of spades, reason for guarded optimism. "Usually there's another betting and drawing round, but let's keep it quick, okay? On to the showdown." He adjusted his glasses.

 

"You want to play that hand so badly, Dee? Fine by me. You go first."

 

That was not a good sign. He spread his cards out before him, and paid close attention to her face. Her eyes widened and her mouth went from a nervous pout to a sly smile, as she placed her cards on the mattress one by one. Three of clubs, four of diamonds, five of diamonds... _no way..._ six of hearts, and yeah, she had a damn straight, he was fucked.

 

"So, a dare, eh? A dare... a dare..."

 

Oh man, why was his heart pounding like that again? "You better make it a good one, Prof. Don't know when you'll get the chance again."

 

She looked at him thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes and wrinkling her brow. "I've got something. I dare you to... call me Blue when we're not at HQ."

 

"That doesn't sound like a particularly provocative dare. Am I missing the point?" Where exactly was she going with this?

 

"The point is to dare you to do something that'll make you uncomfortable. Seeing how you keep sticking to my codename in public, I'm assuming you have a reason, and I don't think it's because of compartmentalization or something like that. Plus, I am confident I can get another few dares out of you. You're not exactly known for your love of telling the truth."

 

"You know, confidence can be very attractive in a woman, but arrogance is just ugly, Pro- _Blue_."

 

"I propose a new rule." She pulled a bottle of bourbon from her bag. "We drink in between rounds."

 

"Any excuse to drink on a weekday." She took a sip and passed him the bottle. "Where do you keep getting these from?"

 

She smiled and shoved the cards into a pile and started shuffling. "I'm not giving out those truths for free now."

 

They played a few more rounds, pretty evenly matched. The Professor had to confess she usually just took booze from her stockpile in Sanctuary when they travelled, she made him wear a dress they'd found (which he kinda liked, actually, but no need to let her in on that fact), he made her admit her first crush had been the Silver Shroud. Then he made the mistake of staking a truth, and the bigger mistake of losing. She didn't realize she was making faces while thinking of a worthy question, and Deacon found himself smiling intently as he took her features in. Fuck, was he in deep, way over his head.

 

"How long have you been watching me?"

 

Okay, unexpected, but he promised the truth, and if he wanted to honour such a promise for anybody, it was her. He was equal parts curious and anxious about how she would react. _Just do it quick, without thinking_.

 

"Since about a week after you got out of the vault."

 

That caught her off guard. _See, I'm better off sticking with dares. My truths only hurt._ While she silently shuffled the cards he saw the full range of human emotion crossing her face, from surprise, anger, to flattered, to worry and sadness. He won the next round, and could ask for another truth. Without thinking too much, he just mumbled "Why do you even put up with me?"

 

"Really, Deacon? You want the truth about that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there, I can feel it! I hope I'm striking the right balance between angst & fluff here...
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading, if you enjoyed it consider leaving a kudo/comment :) they make my day


	12. Twilight Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon and Blue stop for some rest while on the road. Will they get it, though?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing new on spoiler-front. Direct continuation of the previous chapter (for once)
> 
> Titlesong: [The Platters - _Twilight time_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nRU0GEBmWc)

"Why do you even put up with me?"

 

"Really, Deacon? You want the truth about that?"

 

He was so fucking impossible, always evading every step she tried to take in his direction, but never actually backing away. And now she knew he'd basically been stalking her since she got out of the vault? What the hell was that about? Gathering intel, sure, but...

 

She'd figured there was something was holding him back, and now it seemed even more obvious it wasn't that he didn't _want_ to, at least she didn't think so. Maybe the Railroad had rules about stuff like this. Maybe he was afraid to, after losing his wife. Those would be reasons she could understand. But after asking that question, she suspected he thought he was somehow unworthy. And why? Because he'd once joined a synth hate-group? Because they'd killed someone? Because the UP Deathclaws killed Barbara?

 

Didn't he think all the good he was doing redeemed him at all? Blue clenched her fists at the realization, feeling herself get angry. Fuck, it was just like him to try to protect her, but from himself? How the fuck could he think like that? How could he think he didn't deserve love? She felt her heart break for him, and her temper faded. Here was a man desperately trying to do the right thing by others in a shitty, shitty world, and he couldn't even forgive himself for not always having been that way. For being human. It seemed Deacon genuinely needed some truth in his life.

 

She sighed. "I'll tell you a story, Dee." He looked at her, but didn't interrupt or demand the truth he asked for.

 

"There once was this man who lived on the beach, had lived there his entire life. It was the only thing he knew. Of course, living on the beach, he also knew the sea, and the sea could be brutal. Whenever there was a storm, its violent waves would wash away everything on the beach that wasn't tied down by caring hands. The man didn't know where all the water came from, it just was. Like everyone that lived on the beach, he'd lost food and possessions to the sea. Whenever this happened, the man felt powerless and angry. One day, everything was going wrong, and he got so furious, he started yelling and throwing stuff in his anger. The most destructive force he knew was water, so he started throwing buckets of water at the sea, which he blamed for most of his misfortunes, until his water supply ran out. Exhausted, not wanting to spend another minute hearing the waves, he walked all the way to the edge of the beach, and fell asleep on top of a dune."

 

She cleared her throat, trying to think of a good way to continue.

 

"When he woke the next morning, a huge storm had washed away his entire home. Even though the sea had come and washed away things many times before, this time the man blamed himself. He thought because he had thrown water out to the sea, adding to its volume, he was responsible for the water in it. So he vowed he would defeat the sea. The man started to wander along the beach, teaching everyone he came across how to better secure their belongings against the storms. When people lost their homes to the sea, he helped them find a new place to stay. But he couldn't fight the sea, nor empty it of its water, only fight its effects. So he kept on wandering, never settling down again. And even though he helped many people, he never stopped blaming himself for the water he had added. People say, one day, he just disappeared, and everybody believed the sea had claimed him."

 

As far as Blue could tell with those damned sunglasses on his face, Deacon seemed unsure. She thought the point had been pretty clear, but she just thought up the whole thing just now, so she wasn't sure.

 

"That's fucking depressing, Prof, I mean Blue. I really don't need any reminders on the likelihood of me dying afraid and alone, thanks."

 

"For someone so intent on doling out lessons, you really can be pretty thick sometimes."

 

She couldn't help herself smiling a little, though. With the way Deacon kept throwing up barriers, getting him to call her Blue may seem insignificant, but she considered it a win. Names can be powerful tools, and his insistence on calling her Professor reeked of being just another way to keep her at a distance, to keep things professional. _No, Deacon. You have been watching me from a distance since the start. But you can't always keep everyone at arm’s length._

 

"So, what's the lesson here, exactly? Don't get angry at forces of nature? Don't spend all of your time helping people?"

 

"Deacon, you ass, it's don't blame yourself for all of the bad in the world because you once added to it. And, maybe, learn to forgive yourself for your mistakes and accept human connections or you'll end up fucking alone consumed by what you hate about yourself."

 

"Yeah, let me get right on that. It's not like I have any _other_ stuff going on."

 

Blue shoved the cards off the mattress, grabbed the bottle of bourbon and scooted over so she was sitting beside him. It was time for a straight answer, or as straight as she could manage, anyway.

 

"There are a lot of reasons I keep you around, Dee. You know a lot about the area and the people." She unscrewed the bottle cap. He was looking away. "You're a good shot and you know how to stay out of sight. You like all the Old World stuff, so you get my references. You're funny." She took a swig from the bottle and passed it to him, tapping it against his hands. "You prefer to avoid violence. You like to help people." She took a deep breath. "Not to mention that look you get when I persuade someone, pick a lock, or hack a terminal. Or when we get out of shitty situations without a scratch. Or manage to avoid them altogether. Do I need to go on?" Deacon put the bottle to his mouth and drank. "You're one of the good ones, Dee."

 

When he shook his head, she couldn't help herself anymore. She gently took his chin in her hand, and forced him to look at her. Of course, she still couldn't see his eyes, but at least he could see hers. "I mean it, Deacon. If my judgement, my word, means anything to you, then believe that. You may be a pathological liar who has the most inappropriate sense of humour, but you are a _good man_."

 

She could feel the stubble on his chin rasp against her fingers as he turned away again.

 

"You're awfully quiet."

 

"Shit, Blue, what do you expect? I know you need to save everyone, but..."

 

"But you think you're beyond saving?" He didn't respond, but took another swig from the bottle. "What does that make me, Dee?"

 

"You? The saviour of the Commonwealth? You're basically the second coming 'round here."

 

"I don't think I would've gotten this far without you..."

 

Deacon let out a bitter laugh. "I don't believe that for a second. You'd still have your butler, boy scout, detective, reporter... not to mention your fucking stubborn refusal to leave things as they are."

 

"Well, fuck, Deacon, if you think I'm so unstoppable, let me at least try to save _you_." Blue saw his jaws tense up. "Dee..." Hesitantly, she reached out to his glasses, expecting him to stop her. But he let her take the glasses off his face, and even though he wasn't crying, there were tears in his eyes. Fuck, she just wanted to hold him and protect him from all the bad in the world, so he would never have to hurt again, not add to the pain. She put her hand on the back of his neck, stroking softly with her thumb, trying to get him to relax.

 

"Do you ever wonder if radstags can think separately with each brain? Are they connected? Do they agree on everything?"

 

She raised her eyes in disbelief. This man would definitely be the end of her, with his endless deflections. Fine, if that was what he needed... She smiled, and with a little pressure from her hand, he let himself slip until his head rested on her lap.

 

"I wonder about it _all the time_. It's an interesting question. A normal brain has two halves, basically the left side of the brain controls the right side of the body and vice versa; maybe their two brains operate like that?" The corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly upwards, so she continued. "I once read that when they sever the connection between the two halves of the brain, they can use the body to communicate. So maybe they wouldn't even have to be interconnected."

 

"No way. You're making that up."

 

It was a fucking joy to look him in the eyes, as she'd suspected, there was no way to hide his feelings there. She'd only seen him without them once before in all this time. Looked like he was conflicted, but also... hungry. She still couldn't make out the colour of his eyes, but they were light, and kind, and he looked through them like all the bad he'd seen was still etched into them. It made her happy and sad at the same time.

 

Blue grinned at him, rasping her fingers over the stubble on his scalp. "Am not. They call it split brain."

 

"Fucking scientists. There have to be some out there that, you know, help people. I haven't come across them yet. Plus, who comes up with a name like that? So unimaginative."

 

"That hurts. You know I love science, right? Actually, they _were_ trying to help people. People that happened to have very severe brain seizures that medicine couldn't help with."

 

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure cutting people’s brain in half was a great solution."

 

"I find your lack of faith in science very disturbing."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Looking into his eyes was a strange sensation, one she couldn't quite get enough of. He was looking back now, searching for something. On impulse, she leaned down, not breaking eye contact. This time he actually reached up to meet her, pushing himself up on one arm, and wrapping the other around her neck. It was the grasp of a man holding on for dear life, afraid the world might fall away beneath him. Then their lips touched, and it felt like _home_. Blue closed her eyes as she softly explored his lips with hers, relishing the moment. Even the taste of the cheap bourbon on their lips couldn't sour the moment of exchanging hot breaths. Her back, however, didn't really agree with her current position.

 

"Umph." She sat back upright, stretching like a cat. "Scoot over, will you?"

 

Deacon sat up to let her get her legs out from under him, his neck and backside rigid with tension. Even talking nonsense didn't seem to relax him like it normally did. Now that he had his back turned it was the perfect time for a sneak attack. She pressed herself against his back, slipping her arms under his, across his chest, and started raining kisses down on his neck. He gasped. "So yeah, this is happening."

 

Blue didn't respond, instead extending her kisses to his ear, his cheek...

 

"You still owe me a truth. That last one definitely didn't count."

 

"Hmm?" She didn't really agree, but wasn't currently in the mood to argue, instead focussing on kissing his neck again. Fuck, he smelled like... hell, she didn't know, but it was nice regardless. Besides, she could listen to him talk all day.

 

She was working her way to the front of his face, positioning herself with her knees on either side of him. "I really don't know what I did to deserve this..."

 

She cut off his sentence with her lips. No small, sweet kisses this time, but demanding, she slowly sucked on his puckered lower lip, traced the slight curve of his thin upper lip, until he parted them to let her in. His hands crawled underneath her shirt to the small of her back. She could feel him stirring beneath her, and found herself getting lost in the moment, lost in him. Then he grabbed her sides, pulling her away from his face.

 

" _Why_ do you want... this?"

 

" _Really_ , Deacon? Is it really that impossible to imagine someone might _like_ you?"

 

"Well, yeah. At least when they know me half as well as you do."

 

She grinned, exasperated. "Well, there you have it, then. I don't know you half as well, I know you _exactly_ as well as I do." Blue took his head in her hands. "And I like you. A lot. You silly goose."

 

She kissed his throat, running her tongue down his Adam’s apple, and he murmured, "I don't think you fully grasp the concept of sexy nicknames, Blue" creating a pleasant buzzing on her lips.

 

That sounded a lot more like the Deacon she knew. He hadn't even tripped over her name. She leaned back and cocked her brow. "So what are good sexy nicknames according to you?" She didn't wait for a response, but started unbuttoning her shirt at a tortuous slow pace. He couldn't help but stare, and Blue's smile widened in response.

 

"Hot Baby Cakes? No, wait... Honey Bunny." His eyes were still fixated on her hands, his talking following their lead dropping a name at every button. "Or... Peachy Pie? Hmmm... Sugar lips? Tater-tot? Damn." She'd just shrugged off her shirt, and was now unzipping the leather singlet he still had on.

 

Leaning in, her lips against his ear, Blue whispered. "You want me to call you Tater-tot?"

 

Deacon chuckled in her neck as she pulled the jacket off his arms. "No, those were meant for you. If I have to choose, though... I'd have to go with Hot Baby Cakes."

 

Fuck, that tone of voice did her in. She could _hear_ the sleepless nights that he'd spent thinking of her in there. And she remembered her own, thinking of him, all too well. Her lips back on his, she pushed him back until he lay on the mattress. Finally, she had him where she wanted him, and he seemed to want to be there too. Blue explored the warmth of his mouth, his taste, the texture of his lips as she softly bit on them. Judging from what she felt between her legs, his leather pants were probably getting mighty uncomfortable. Tracing his jawline with her tongue till she reached his neck, she very gingerly bit on his jugular, eliciting a moan. With deft fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, and trailed wet kisses down his chest, lingering around his navel as she undid his belt.

 

"Okay, Hot Baby Cakes, got any more pet-names I should know about?"

 

"Well, little Dee is kind of partial to Tummy Banana. Or, when he's feeling artistic , the Artful Throbber."

 

"I'll try to remember that, in case I speak with him later." She shifted her weight, rubbing against him. "Or is he ready to come out now?"

 

He groaned. "You have no fucking idea, Blue."

 

She looked up to signal him to lift his hips so she could rip those damned leathers off of them, and saw him stare at her, his face somewhere between adoration and craving, eyes wide but a smirk on his lips. _Fuck, why is he so fucking perfect._ Blue pulled on his pants to make her intent clear, and he obligingly lifted his hips. Of course, she'd completely forgotten his boots, so she had to get up and pull those off first. Deacon, meanwhile, just lay back with a huge fucking grin on his face.

 

"Don't get used to it."

 

While she was at it, she untied her combat boots, and stepped out of her own pants.

 

"Oh, I could, though."

 

Again with the fucking voice. With a simple change in intonation this man could awaken something in her... a shiver ran down her spine. _I may not have a voice like that, but two can play that game._ She positioned herself between his legs, running her fingers over his chest, downward, until she reached the edge of his underwear. Biting her lip, she released his throbbing erection from his underwear. Fuck, how long had she been waiting for this? She was definitely planning on taking her time. She bent down and ran her tongue along the length, tracing the edge of the head when she came to it. He groaned softly, reaching for her head with his hands, burying them in her hair.

 

_No more hiding now._

 

Blue wrapped her lips around him, softly explored him with her tongue as she took him in very slowly. He gently arched his hips towards her, anticipating. By the time she reached the base, feeling him in the back of her throat, he breathed her name, whispered how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her. She almost stopped to comment on the lack of witty one-liners, but instead started moving up and down in a steady rhythm, flicking her tongue as she felt him twitch inside of her. He guided her movements with his hands, caressing her scalp with rough fingers, until he couldn't take it anymore and pulled her upwards.

 

His kiss was hard, he bit and pulled on her lower lip as excited fingers travelled down her back, cupping her ass. Swept up in the moment, she squealed when he pulled her upwards and burrowed his face in her underwear. Suddenly upright above his head, she sought support from the wall as he reached between her legs with one hand, still cupping her ass with the other, and pulled the wet cloth to the side. He actually purred as his tongue very gingerly edged around her clit, and he ran his index finger along her wet slit. Her heart pounded in anticipation, stomach tightening at his touch. He kept circling her nub, and slowly pushed his finger inside her. She arched her hips towards him, breathing heavily under his touch.

 

"I've dreamed about this," he buzzed against her, "but this is better." He simultaneously added a second finger and started sucking hard on her clit, and she yelped at the sudden contact. She could feel _his fucking smile_ against her as he quickened his movements. Her hand grasped at his head, attempting to force him to go _harder, faster_ , and within seconds her body was quivering as an explosion rushed through her nerves.

 

Blue scrambled backwards, and wasted no time in dropping her panties and locating his throbbing erection, guiding it with her hand and impaling herself on him unceremoniously. It was his turn to gasp for air. She was more than ready for him. She slowly started riding him with deliberate movements, relishing the feeling of him filling her and the wild look in his eyes. His face was glistening with her juices from the bridge of his nose to his chin. With one hand he held her hip, the other travelling up her stomach to her breast with rough fingers, twisting her nipple, until it moved back down again and grasped her other hip. He started quickening the pace, pushing her up and pulling her back down aggressively until she adjusted to the rhythm. Deacon slid his thumb against her clit, leaving it there for her to grind up against as she fucked him, sending new sparks of pleasure running throughout her body.

 

"Fuck, Blue, this isn't gonna take long."

 

She agreed silently, lost in the feeling, quickening her movements. Feeling him swell up even more inside her, the pressure against her clit, she came undone a second time, shivering in his hands. It was as if he'd waited for the moment, because he immediately grabbed her hips and rolled over so he was on top of her. He thrust two, three, more times, then pulled back and looked at her with what seemed like desperation on his face, clenching his pulsating erection. She just nodded, and he came forward just in time to for her to wrap her lips around him before he unloaded.

 

He stumbled backwards awkwardly, with unsure wide eyes. But when she smiled at him, his expression softened. He picked their clothes up of the ground, and she stared at the old mattress beneath her in mild disgust.

 

"I can't believe we did that on this horrifying lump of... ugh."

 

Blue quickly got up. Sitting on the mattress fully clothed was one thing, lying on it with your bare ass was quite another. Deacon laughed.

 

"You didn't seem to mind a minute ago."

 

"I was kind of distracted, to be honest."

 

" _Rea_ -lly?"

 

She looked around for something to put on, but Deacon had all their clothes in his hands. Putting a hand on her hip and cocking her elbow out, she raised her eyebrow at him, but she couldn't keep a grin from her lips.

 

"Can I have my clothes back, please?"

 

"When you answer my question."

 

They looked at each other, she trying to stare him down, he just taking the time to take in the sights.

 

"Yes! Yes, you were fucking great, okay? Can I have them now?"

 

He handed her clothes back, a smug smirk on his face, but his eyes soft and happy.

 

"You were pretty great too, Tater-tot."

 

She scowled at him, but they both put on their underwear and covered the mattress with one of her blankets, scuttling under the second one. Blue pressed her back against Deacon and he wrapped his arms around her waist. As far as she was concerned, for right now, the whole Commonwealth could go up in a nuclear explosion, she wasn't moving a muscle.

 

She murmured. "Hey, Dee?"

 

"Hmmm?"

 

"I think... I think I'm happy."

 

He kissed her shoulder. "Good. You deserve that. I'm just hoping I won't wake up in a minute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kind of nerve-wrecking to write, somehow. I hope I was able to do it justice.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Also, thank you so much for reading :D


	13. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon struggles with afterthoughts and opening up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no new spoilers.
> 
> Titlesong: [The Vaccines - _Denial_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHGe5L_Ovms)

Deacon had trouble sleeping that night.

 

At first he was kind of dazzled, had trouble forming coherent thoughts. Somehow, it reminded him of a Mr. Handy stuck in a deadlock or logic loop, just repeating _error, does not compute_ to itself over and over.

 

But after a while a train of thought came rolling into the station. He'd had his fair share of... affiliations over the years, but sleeping in the same bed, after? And cuddling? Not things he was big on. Over the years, he'd come to prefer keeping sex and actual intimacy mutually exclusive. Or, to be honest, he just avoided intimacy whenever he could. The previous time he'd slept with the Professor hadn't felt nearly as intimate, and that was about as close as he'd gotten to anybody in ages. He would like to think he had lost count of the years it had been, but that wasn't true. He knew it to the day. And that night in Sanctuary... Blue needed someone and he was there. Even as he'd stepped into bed with her then, after they’d… he'd told himself it wasn't about _him_. Had he been wrong all along?

 

_I could lose her._

_Or I could die and leave her alone, again_.

 

He didn't know which possibility was worse.

 

Just lying there, his arms around her, his nose in her hair, was already way more than he deserved. Still, after tonight, he _wanted_ more. Having feelings for someone was one thing, feeling the barely held-back urge to imagine a future together... He tightened his grip, and the Professor, _Blue_ , leaned into him, still sleeping, trusting him enough to let her guard down like that. Right after the ensuing glow, his stomach tightened and a jittery feeling spread from there to his limbs. The arm Blue was laying on started to fall asleep, so he pulled it from under her, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her face. _Fuck, what am I going to do? What is Dez gonna say?_

 

It wasn't like she could really kick him out of the Railroad, of course, she relied on him too much for that. But operational security should be his priority, too. His top priority, actually. There had been instances of fraternization in the Railroad before, it was basically inevitable when a lot of people poured their entire life into an organization, but never this high up the food chain. He knew too much, possibly more than Dez. The Professor was too valuable an asset, hopefully their way into the Institute. Would she understand what was needed for this to have even the slightest possibility of working _and_ not ruining everything he, or they, were fighting for?

 

 _Compartmentalization_.

 

It helped the Railroad before, it would have to do now. All of this should be concealed from prying eyes. It wasn't anyone else's business anyway.

 

Going over mental checklists, he sighed. Definitely no calling her Blue in public, the transition would be way too obvious. He hoped she wasn't expecting a lot of public displays of affection, either. It dawned on him that he might be over-thinking things. Maybe he shouldn't get ahead of himself. It wasn't like they'd even discussed the… parameters of their relationship, or anything. Deacon knew himself well enough to realize he was intellectualizing things to not deal with them on an emotional level, but right now, he was fine with that. He rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and did his best to sleep.

 

*                      *                      *

 

Sometime after midnight, Deacon woke up to Blue sitting against the wall by his head, staring at him, a mesmerized look on her face. He felt flutters in his stomach, and sighed. With all the worrying about possible repercussions this whole time, he'd overlooked one important thing: he was already smitten. Done for. It hardly mattered if they'd have sex another hundred times or not at all (although he knew which option he preferred), it wouldn't change his feelings for her. He could already lose her. And if she was crazy enough to have feelings for him, she could lose him too. With everything the Railroad had riding on her finding the Institute, there was no way he could leave her alone either. He closed his eyes, doubts tearing at his mind. Could they really do this? Could he?

 

He felt fingers on his cheek, and jokingly said "Good morning. Admiring the view?"

 

"Hey. I figured since you've been watching me for ages, I had some catching up to do."

 

Lips found his forehead, his nose, his mouth, and his doubts were temporarily wiped from his mind. Deacon kissed her back, putting his hand on the back of her neck and taking advantage of her upside-down position relative to him to suck on her lower lip, trace it with his tongue. She sighed profusely when she broke off the kiss.

 

"However fucking tempting this may be, I figured you might want to use the cover of night to get back to Sanctuary."

 

Right, the real world. How was it this whole trip suddenly felt like a vacation that was about to end? Probably because their mission hadn't revolved around massacring a bunch of people. _Yeah, let's go with that. Nothing to do with Blue at all._

 

"Well aren't you a big party-pooper. Hey, your eyes are going to fall out soon if you keep rolling them like that."

 

Blue stuffed their belongings back in her pack while he got dressed, picking some inconspicuous utility coveralls to wear. Well, inconspicuous... he'd seen Blue checking out his arms when he wore them, so there was that.

 

Before long they were travelling again, now under the cover of darkness. Blue took the lead, as always, and Deacon caught himself grinning senselessly at her back way too often. He didn't say much, and spent most of the time thinking of ways that their newfound relationship could affect mission outcomes. At least, that's what he told himself. In reality, he was thinking about all the possible ways Blue could get hurt as they got closer to the Institute, and what measures he could take to circumvent them.

 

It was still dark when they crossed the bridge in to Sanctuary Hills, the few hours of sleep they had quickly wearing off. The guard post at the bridge was empty, but the buzzing of automatic turrets reminded anyone entering Sanctuary that it was never really unguarded. As was often the case at night, Codsworth was patrolling the perimeter, this time followed around by Dogmeat. The latter came sprinting towards Deacon and Blue the moment he saw movement, tail wagging wildly. In one leap the dog scaled the last few paces, throwing Blue to the ground as he landed with his front paws on her chest, slobbering all over her face, and leaving Deacon grabbing his stomach from laughing so hard.

 

"Oh my... I missed you too, boy."

 

She rubbed the dog behind his ears, but Dogmeat hardly slowed down, jumping over to Deacon to repeat the process. He saw the dog coming, and managed to brace himself enough to remain standing despite the furry cannonball to the chest.

 

While Blue was scrambling back up and Deacon was enthusiastically greeting Dogmeat, Codsworth caught up with them. After an equally extensive, albeit less physical, welcome from the robot, he offered to make them breakfast, but Blue decided she'd rather get some sleep. Deacon agreed, the sky in the east was getting decidedly lighter, and once it was light it would be that much harder to sleep. He followed Blue to her house, continuing on inside when she started to sort her junk from her pack into the various cupboards on her porch, pouring junk from her pack, and making quite a racket.

 

"Why don't you leave that until after dawn, Boss? You're just waking people up this way."

 

Blue's head jerked at the word 'Boss', but she stopped emptying her pack on the ground, at least.

 

It was quiet inside, and Deacon peaked into the room MacCready had previously occupied. Nobody there. Had the merc left? Although Deacon wouldn't really mind, he'd seen the way MacCready had bonded, not just with Blue, but also Preston and even Codsworth. He doubted he would just up and leave while Blue was away. When he felt a hand on his shoulder he first thought it was the merc, wondering why Deacon was staring into his room, but the hand crept to his neck, caressing, and he couldn't imagine MacCready touching him that way willingly. Deacon turned around, dodging Blue's reaching hand in the process, leaving her staring at him confusedly. Deacon didn't want her to feel bad, but he also didn't want to be caught holding and kissing her by MacCready casually walking in.

 

"Let's... take this to the bedroom."

 

Blue grinned. "Gladly."

 

Fuck, he was such an idiot. He should have talked to her when they were alone, out in the 'Wealth. As they entered the bedroom he wondered, should he even be spending the night there? Deciding it would be more suspicious to suddenly move to the public dormitory, he let himself fall on the spare bed. Distancing himself, misplaced innuendo, he really was on top of his game here. Blue was looking at him inquisitively, obviously trying to figure out what his sudden change in behaviour could mean.

 

"I have this feeling I misinterpreted your intention, here."

 

Her tone and posture were unsure as she was standing in the doorway, silently breaking his heart.

 

"Just close the door and come here for a second, yeah?"

 

She frowned, but her shoulders seemed a bit more relaxed and she slowly closed the door and walked over to him. He sat up, cross-legged, and tapped his hand on the space beside him.

 

"Are we going to have a talk now?" She sighed as she sat down, a frown still creasing her forehead.

 

He grabbed her shoulder, pulled her close, her back pressed against his chest, mulling over what exactly he should tell her. After a while, he cleared his throat.

 

"Listen, beautiful, I think we shouldn't be broadcasting what we're doing here. The Institute has eyes everywhere, you never know who may be a synth working for them. And seeing how they took Shaun, I don't really doubt they've been keeping an eye on you."

 

Blue was silent for a while, just leaning in to him, letting his words sink in. He had his arms around her waist, his head on her shoulder.

 

"So you think they might go after people I care about?"

 

He heard in her voice that she hadn't really considered that. She made it so easy to forget that she didn't grow up in the 'Wealth, at least not really. She didn't feel that deep-seated paranoia about people, _friends_ , being replaced with synths, without anyone ever knowing _why_ , that was spoon-fed to literally everyone. He needed to be honest but reassuring about the risks. Paranoia was one of the main reasons a lot of people didn't care much about the fate of synths. It's hard to feel compassion for a weapon that is being used against you by an invisible enemy with unknown motives. And the Railroad _needed_ Blue, he was sure she'd get them into the Institute. He had to keep her on their side at all costs. When he started to talk, she reached for the table, grabbing two cigarettes, lighting them, and passing one to him.

 

"We know they replace people with synths. We know they employ people like Kellogg to handle their affairs on the surface. I'm sure they're keeping an eye on you, but they haven't acted against you, as far as we can tell. I think they considered Kellogg an acceptable loss. But you have been getting closer with the Brotherhood, and it's pretty obvious why they are here."

 

"But they already have Shaun! What more leverage could they need?"

 

"Well, friends and allies wouldn't be much use to them as leverage, maybe you're right. But a lover? Then there's the possibility that they'd want intel. Someone close to you would be a good point to start."

 

"Okay, okay, you've made your point. You could have shared this sooner, you know."

 

"Yeah, I... I'm not so great with sharing."

 

"Don't I know it."

 

She turned around, sought his lips with her own. Exchanging hot breaths, Deacon's mind started to wander to more pleasurable subjects, as did Blue's hands. But when they edged their way into his coveralls he stopped her with a quivering sigh. He put his lips to her ear and whispered.

 

"Not here, and not now, beautiful. If we do, I want to make you _scream_."

 

She tensed up, and took revenge by sucking on his neck. He moaned, and even though he was already thinking of outfits that could inconspicuously cover the hickey the next day, he didn't pull her away. When she was satisfied with the mark she left, she pushed his sunglasses up his forehead, and looked him in the eyes.

 

"It'll be our secret," she smirked.

 

He shook his head, trying to suppress a smile.

 

"You are a terrible and cruel person, Blue."

 

"And you're a sadist who likes to see me suffer. Just… just tell me stuff in the future, okay?"

 

He hummed in agreement and she settled on her side, resting her head on his chest, while he stroked her hair, wondering how and when he'd gotten so lucky. When Blue started snoring softly, he carefully picked her up and carried her to her own bed. _Just tell her stuff._ If only things were that simple. Out the window he could see the horizon turning soft pink. The sun would be up soon. Best to get some sleep, too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than usual. Next time we'll get to the story going again, promise, I just felt I had to take some time for all of this :)  
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


	14. Cry Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue discovers some of the extent of Deacon's deceptions, prepares for her excursion to the Glowing Sea, and the two meet up with Piper and Nick in Diamond City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new spoiler warnings, but as one might surmise from the summary we're getting close to the Glowing Sea mission.
> 
> Titlesong: [Melody Gardot - _Cry wolf_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7MhcZbHYZA)

Blue slept halfway into the day. When she finally woke up, she noticed she was lying in her own bed and Deacon was not directly around.

 

It seemed awfully familiar, waking up alone after falling asleep in his arms. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like if they were normal people. Not even back in the day, but just settlers, nothing very special to lose or to fight for, other than their home.

 

_She'd get up, maybe even try to look pretty every now and again. He'd be up already, in the common room, eating probably. When she came walking up he'd crack a joke, maybe flirtatious, maybe silly. He wouldn't wear his glasses, at least not all the time, and as she'd come walking up to him he'd look up at her, smile, pull her on his lap and kiss her neck. They could farm or hunt. Sneak off to their bedroom in the afternoon. Normal things._

 

For a split second, she found herself wishing she didn't have a kid to look for.

 

Immediately, she felt the weight of her guilt crushing her. How could she think something like that? She was such a horrible mother. Silently, her shoulders started jerking with the effort of holding her sobs inside. It was just that she'd already been in the 'Wealth twice as long as she'd known her baby boy, who wasn't even a baby boy anymore. She thought she loved him, but she'd never gotten to know him.

 

 _Oh, come one, Blue, you are who you are. No use crying over it._ She could practically hear Piper say it, feel her friendly hand on her shoulder. And it was true, no use in wishing or complaining, especially now. She closed her eyes, did her best to stuff all the feelings back in Pandora’s box. There was no time for regrets, self-pity, or even guilt, no matter how often they tried to pounce on her. She imagined the feelings curling into a hot, heavy ball in her centre, where she forged them into anger. Enough anger to propel her all the way to the Institute's doorstep.

 

Wiping the last tears from her face, she got up and rummaged through her dresser. With the haul from the Prydwen, she thought she was ready to finish upgrading her Power Armour, and take on the Glowing Sea. On a whim, she picked Kellogg's outfit, the one she'd snatched from his still warm corpse. Comfortable trousers, combat boots, leather jacket, fingerless gloves, and a piece of shoulder armour on her left side. It provided decent protection while being lighter than a full armour set. Blue thought it fitting to wear it now.

 

When she left her house, she heard laughter coming from the common room. Sounded like Preston, MacCready, and Deacon were having fun. Before she even wondered what they were laughing about, she remembered something Deacon had said.

 

“ _How long have you been watching me?”_

 

_"Since about a week after you got out of the vault."_

 

The first week she'd struck out to Concord, and returned to Sanctuary with the survivors from the Quincy massacre. The second week she'd spent here in Sanctuary, clearing out houses and setting up the beginnings of the common room. Her heart began beating faster.

 

He'd been watching her _here_.

 

Blue stopped on her porch for a second. She'd thought he meant keeping track of her movements, her allies, stuff like that. Not actually watching her from a distance.

 

Okay, he'd need a good vantage point... The vault was halfway up a hill. It was the closest elevated terrain relative to Sanctuary. She turned on her heels and walked away from the common room, down the street, and took a right, up the hill. The ball of anger was still heavy and white-hot inside of her. Even though it was not originally directed at Deacon, she felt angry with him now, too.

 

She'd only been back to the vault once, before she went to find Diamond City. Had Deacon been watching her then? She'd been pretty distraught after, it was when she'd taken Nate's wedding ring. Had he seen that? As she ascended towards the elevator that functioned as entrance to Vault 111, she tried her best not to look at the charred bones of military and Vault-tec personnel, and her neighbours, instead looking towards Sanctuary and focusing on her anger. He'd been _watching_ her. If she climbed the hill a bit further, beyond the vault entrance, she'd probably have a view of both the entrance and Sanctuary Hills. Scrambling further up, she dashed through bushes now that there was no road, and then she saw it...

 

She didn't know what she had been expecting, but it wasn't this. A chair and table, topped by an improvised roof made out of a tied up sheet, and a low wooden wall propped up against some trees. Eyes wide, she walked up to the chair and sat down. On the table stood some water and an ashtray. _This is more like a semi-permanent lookout_. There was a Railroad sign drawn on the wood of the wall, a plus sign in the centre. Blue closed her eyes and visualized the blackboard back at HQ with all the code signs on it. A plus sign meant... ally. She reached out and ran her index finger over the sign.

 

_Ally._

 

For someone who'd never met her at the time, possibly hadn't even seen her, he seemed uncharacteristically optimistic in leaving an ally mark here. Especially for a man who tried so hard to teach her to not trust everyone. She looked around, on the ground, the table. Nothing fresh. Nobody had been here for quite some time. About three to four months, probably. If she had to guess, however unlikely it seemed, it looked like he came here for longer than she was out of the vault. He'd been _expecting_ her.

 

She'd been angry when she came up here, irrationally so, hoping to find some evidence of Deacon spying on her. Just to rub his face in it, to get the drop on him for once. She'd hoped to find cigarette butts, maybe, something like that. But this... the ball of anger in her stomach cracked, and soft sticky feelings started leaking out. Suddenly deflated and uncomfortable in her skin, she jumped up and ran back, to the common room.

 

She arrived out of breath, stopping just short of the doorway, and stepped inside. Codsworth was busy doing dishes behind the bar. On the far end, two settlers whose names she hadn't bothered learning yet, were having breakfast. So far, nobody seemed to have noticed her. When her eyes found Deacon, her heart skipped a few beats. He wasn't wearing a wig or hat today, and Blue felt a strong urge to caress his stupid bald head. _Fuck._ He was wearing a scarf to hide the hickey she'd given him. She just stood there, catching her breath. He seemed to be staring ahead, listening to the other two men. MacCready and Preston were sitting at Deacon's table. Both of them had their weapon of choice in hand. MacCready was casting doubtful looks towards Preston's laser musket.

 

"But it takes so fu- freaking long to wind up!" MacCready bolted his weapon, popping out an unused bullet. "You see? That's all I have to do in between shots, which means I'm quicker in lining up my next shot; I hardly have to move."

 

Preston shook his head. "Unless you have to reload. And since the General installed that three crank capacitor, I rarely have to take a second shot at the same enemy. There's just no way to achieve the same amount of damage with a conventional ballistic weapon."

 

MacCready gestured towards Deacon. "Hey man, you have to agree with me, right?"

 

"I've already agreed with you. My main problem with energy weapons is there's no way to silence them. I don't like it when they see me coming. _General_? Care to enlighten us with your opinion?"

 

So he'd been staring at her. She noticed the side eye Preston gave him at his use of her Minutemen title, and sauntered over to the table, pulling her own pistol from the belt she'd stuck it behind.

 

"You know I like to mix it up, but nothing beats Deliverer."

 

Deacon just smiled knowingly. MacCready was staring back and forth at the tiny pistol with the huge silencer and Blue in disbelief, but Preston picked it up and examined the craftsmanship with admiration in his eyes.

 

"That is one fine pistol, General. Where did you find it?"

 

"Oh, you know, clearing out some building. I think it was a prototype they were developing, but there wasn't much else to be found."

 

After having a late breakfast, Blue spent the last of the afternoon tinkering with her set of Power Armour. She'd already been proud of the full set of T-51 pieces she'd scraped together, upgrading them all to their highest tier. Now it was time for the finishing touches that should make her trip to the Glowing Sea survivable, if not easy. Besides adding lead plating to all the pieces to increase radiation resistance, she installed kinetic servos in the legs and a core assembly in the torso, so moving around wouldn't be as draining. Finally, she added a tactical red headlight to the helmet, and took a step back to admire her work.

 

"That's one hell of a fashion statement, Boss."

 

She answered without facing Deacon. "Isn't it, though?"

 

He could probably hear the pride in her voice, because he chuckled before responding.

 

"I'm more of a black tie guy myself, if I have to dress up. But I think you can pull it off."

 

She turned around now, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

 

"When you _have_ to dress up? You love dressing up!"

 

"Yeah, you got me. I'm a liar."

 

Blue wanted so much to hold him, to kiss him, but after last night, she understood that was not in the cards for them right now. They'd have to play friends while being lovers. It was, basically, the typical secret agents’ ploy in reverse.

 

"I wouldn't mind seeing the whole black tie get-up, to be honest."

 

"I bet you do. Maybe if you take me somewhere nice for once, you'll get the chance to see."

 

It was impossible to tell with his sunglasses on, but she imagined his eyes twinkled when he said that.

 

She wanted to ask him about the watch post she'd found, but people might overhear them. Besides, she was afraid he'd interpret her questions as mistrust, and she had this feeling he _needed_ her trust in him. Just like he really needed her to honour his trust in her, to live up to it. At first, after he told her about Barbara, he'd acted as though he expected her to dump his sorry ass at any moment. After that moment didn't come was when real trust started growing between them. He still kept secrets from her though, as did she from him.

 

Deacon cleared his throat. "So, ehm... Boss, what's the plan?"

 

He was staring pretty hard at her Power Armour.

 

"Well, I want to stash this baby," she tapped the armor, "somewhere south of Sanctuary. I was thinking of that trailer park, you know the one. It's not too much of a detour on the way to Diamond City."

 

"And what are we doing there?"

 

He was obviously fishing for something, but she couldn't think of what it might be.

 

"Picking up Nick. And celebrating getting this far, I guess. I have no idea of what's waiting for us in the Glowing Sea, or how long we'll be there, so it seems like a final hoorah is in order."

 

"Don't say final."

 

Deacon's face didn't betray him, but his voice cracked.

 

"I... I just meant final before leaving..."

 

She didn't add she also meant their final time together, before she left for the Glowing Sea with Nick. She also didn't place her hand on his cheek to stroke it like she wanted. Nor did she kiss him, tell him what he meant to her... He'd be very proud of her self-restraint, if he knew. Right now, he was just standing there silently, looking at her, and it was driving her up the wall.

 

"I'm just going to finish packing, okay?

 

She stormed off to her porch, where she'd been collecting all the Stimpaks, RadAway, and Rad-X she could find, as well as some purified water, pork n' beans, and potted meat. It'd have to be enough. There were too many emotions writhing through her body, and she just needed to get on the road. She found MacCready at the guard post, and asked him to help Preston with any troubles that might pop up, like they inevitably did. She told Dogmeat to stay and be good. Blue and Deacon set out just before dusk. Deacon kept his distance throughout the trip, hardly saying two words to her.

 

*                      *                      *

 

Blue had managed to send word to Piper and Nick that they were coming, so after dropping their packs at Home Plate, they went straight to the Dugout Inn. Piper noticed them the moment they walked in.

 

"Blue! Blue, over here!"

 

Piper was waving at them from one of the couches to the right, Nick sitting opposite to her. The regulars had all scampered to the bar, probably because of the sass those two had been throwing at them all evening. Blue felt her heart swell. There were still good people left, and she loved these two to bits. She bent over to hug Piper.

 

"Hey, Pipes."

 

"Hey, Blue. So, you're with _him_ , huh?" She whispered.

 

Blue gave Piper a look while she let herself fall on the couch next to her.

 

"If it isn't Diamond City's premier private dick, Nick Valentine." Deacon joked while sitting down next to the detective, but his smile was genuine.

 

"Mister Deacon. Taking a night off from official business, I presume?"

 

"Don't you know it. I don't get to smell the roses nearly enough." Deacon inhaled sharply. "Or stale beer and cigarettes in this case. Thanks nose. I really need this feedback."

 

They all laughed and Blue saw Scarlett, who was cleaning behind Deacon and Valentine, make a face. Blue grinned to herself. Some things really never changed: As long as there were people there would be dinky bars with this particular aroma.

 

"Vadi-im!" Piper called out, "Your favourite out of all my friends is here!" She turned to Blue and continued. "You're my favourite too, Blue. Hey, that rhymes!"

 

Blue looked at her friend giggling uncontrollably, and then at Nick.

 

"How long have you guys been waiting here?"

 

Nick shrugged. "She insisted on meeting here right at dusk, so... about two hours?"

 

Before Blue could respond, Vadim Bobrov came walking up to the couches.

 

"Piper, my dear, do you need to make so much noise? I chave other customers, you know. Oh, Blue, yes? Velcome back, alvays lovely to see you." He looked around the coffee table to the other couch, where his eyes fell on Deacon. "Chey, I know that face... veren't you vorking as a guard? I chaven't seen you chere in a long time."

 

"Oh man, I've had so many jobs I've lost count. Don't think I've been part of the Diamond City guards, though. Maybe that was my twin brother? We're not on speaking terms any more, not since he stole my sweet Ziggy..." Deacon made a sad face and grasped at his forehead.

 

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear. Ziggy vas your lover?"

 

Deacon shook his head. "No, she was my pet molerat. One Christmas she was just.. gone. And that night, Adam, that's my brother's name, you know, had made this de-li-cious stuffed molerat..."

 

Vadim was looking at them, one after the other, clearly unsure on how to take this story. Piper was looking at Deacon with an open mouth, Nick and Blue were both chuckling under their breath, and the man himself seemed dead serious, he kept his face so straight. Blue was almost sure there were little lines of laughter around his eyes that betrayed him behind his sunglasses. She decided to give poor Vadim a way out of this conversation.

 

"Hey, Vadim, can we have a round of drinks? I'll take one of your best moonshine, please. And Piper here will have a beer." She looked sternly at Piper, then at the men across the table. "It's my treat guys, what are you having?"

 

Vadim looked relieved when Nick expressed a preference for neat whiskey, and Deacon for a beer, and he could move from their company. When they got their drinks, Piper tried to get Deacon to tell her more about these _jobs_ of his, and why Vadim thought he recognized him, until Deacon got annoyed enough to propose they play a hand of poker to provide a distraction. It ended up a pleasant night, with Nick winning most rounds. Blue wasn't surprised, even Deacon couldn't beat that synth's poker face. The sun wasn't coming up yet, but the sky was lighter in the east when they finally made their way outside.

 

Blue managed to blurt out, "I'll come by the office when I'm done sleeping, Nick" before Piper dragged her down the street a bit, so they were out of earshot from the others. She looked at Blue with urgency in her eyes.

 

"So, are you _with_ him? Don't hold out on me now, Blue."

 

"Shush, you. Nobody is supposed to know..."

 

Piper looked at Deacon, who was still talking with Nick on the Dugout's terrace.

 

"Shit, I know the guy is secretive, but isn't that a bit over the top?"

 

"Not really... Oh, I don't know." Blue's hand searched for her wedding band on instinct until she remembered it was on the chain around her neck.

 

"I'm just making sure he's good enough for you. I'll have a talk with him later, to inform him what will happen if you end up hurt."

 

"Thanks, Pipes, but I don't think that's really necessary. And please don't bring up anything about him not being good enough..."

 

"So he agrees he's not good enough. Well, that buys him some goodwill in my book." Piper looked at Blue. "Plus, he's got great taste. Listen, Blue, you be careful out there, okay? Come back in one piece. That's, you know, an order."

 

"Of course," Blue responded with confidence she didn't really feel.

 

They hugged until Nick and Deacon came walking up, prompting them to let go. Piper smiled and headed off to Publick Occurrences.

 

"Good night! It's going to take all day to sleep this off."

 

Nick chuckled. "She's not wrong. You'd better get some rest too, kiddo. I'll see you when you're ready to go."

 

He exchanged nods with Deacon and paced across the still quiet marketplace, leaving Deacon and Blue behind. She strolled towards her Diamond City home, slightly unsteady on her feet, until she heard Deacon's voice behind her.

 

"So, you're just taking Valentine?"

 

He tried too hard to sound callous. _So that's what's been bothering him._

 

"Well... yeah. It took long enough to find the materials to upgrade the one Power Armour, and Nick's not affected by radiation, apparently." She looked back at him. "You didn't think I'd willingly expose you to something like that, did you? Not without adequate protection..."

 

"Always looking out for the little guy, aren't you, _Boss_."

 

She flinched at his words. They may have sounded like a joke, but his voice... it was dark. He stomped off towards her front door and disappeared in her house.

 

Blue sighed. It would be a while before she truly understood all the baggage this man carried around with him. Together, they probably had enough going around to overload a vertibird. She went after him with every intention of finally wrap her arms around him in the privacy of her city home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think is going to happen when she gets inside?
> 
> Anyway, as always, hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading :)


	15. The Small Print

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon & Blue spend a last day together before Blue takes off with Nick to investigate the Glowing Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mentions of the particulars of the Glowing Sea mission; also, smut ahead :3
> 
> Titlesong: [Muse - _The small print_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1_Ri9dms8o)

Deacon stepped into Blue's house, flicked on a light over a table in one of the corners, then started pacing. Intellectually, he understood why Blue didn't want him along on her search for the defecting Institute scientist in a sea of radiation. He didn't want her to go either. But letting her go without him, even if Nick was going along... Rationalizations aside, he had to make sure she was safe, both for himself and for the Railroad. He couldn't just sit on his hands back at HQ. Every fibre of his being protested against it.

 

The front door opened and closed. Blue stood in the half dark, hesitant, watching him pace across her room. Did she have any idea of the emotional rollercoaster she’d put him on?

 

"Dee..."

 

He didn't give her time to finish, closing the distance between them with a few strides, pinning her against the wall. Pressing his knee between her legs, covering her mouth with his, he tried to make her feel what she did to him. Blue didn't seem to hesitate, matching his urgency with her lips, running her fingers up and down the back of his neck. When she bit on his lower lip, he lifted her with both his knee and his hands, until she wrapped her legs around him.

 

_Is this real?_ He knew she was physically there, but was her mind? Did she actually _see_ him, despite all his deceptions? Could she? Deacon pressed his body into hers, rubbing his hard-on against her. He needed to know she was his, in every way that mattered. On some level, he wanted to fuck her in the middle of the marketplace in broad daylight, just so people would know.

 

_"Deacon..."_

 

She whispered while nipping at his earlobe. Fuck, he loved it when she said his name. Adjusting his angle so he had access, he unzipped her jacket. She held on to his neck with one hand, and then the other, as he struggled to free her from the jacket and the shoulder armour. All the while, she was looking at his face, her mouth slightly open, pupils so wide her eyes seemed like black pits, drawing him in.

 

He hesitated for a second, then tore the sunglasses from his face and threw them in the general direction of the couch. Blue's lips curved upwards in a smile, so sweet and sincere he almost regretted getting rid of his glasses. He didn't want her to see the desperation in his eyes while he looked at her, all the doubts about taking something so beautiful and pure for himself. Being with her, like this, was the most selfish thing he’d done in a very long time. He almost didn't meet her gaze, and when he finally did, she placed her hands on the sides of his face, as if to keep him there.

 

She looked as though she wanted to say something, but didn't, instead pulling him back to kiss him again. Her lips were even harder now, more demanding, and her hands started undoing the scarf around his neck and slipping into his clothes. Fuck, all of this was going way too fast. He wanted to take his time, to savour this little moment of privacy now that they had a good cover story for being alone together.

 

Holding on to Blue's ass while she was kissing his neck, Deacon carried her over to the couch. He kneeled while carefully putting her down on it, and as soon as she let go of him, started undoing her boots and trousers. He heard her giggle above him.

 

"I could get used to this."

 

It made him smile, but he had a purpose here, and wasn't about to let himself get distracted. When he looked up to indicate to her to raise her hips, he saw that she'd gotten rid of her blouse and bra, and lost his train of thought for a moment. _God, she is gorgeous._ He whistled softly. She smiled, pushed him back, and stood up, dropping the remainder of her clothes to the ground. Clear thoughts stopped forming in his head as she pressed herself against him, peeling layer after layer of clothing from him while he let his hands wander over her breasts, her stomach, her back, until he was as naked as she was. His throbbing erection pressed against her, her hands on his back, then travelling down, towards his front... it was all going too fast again and if he didn't pay attention he'd lose himself in the moment way too soon. Deacon grabbed Blue's wrists and pushed her back towards the couch, creating some distance between them.

 

"Slow down there, beautiful."

 

Blue rolled her eyes and pouted. "Why?"

 

He pushed her back onto the couch and bit her puckered lower lip before answering.

 

"Don't you know? The third time's the charm, right?"

 

He started kissing and nibbling his way up her jawline, down her neck, her clavicle, until he found her breast and wrapped his lips around her nipple, alternately sucking and biting, mirroring his movements with his fingers on her other breast.

 

"I thought the last time was pretty great..."

 

Deacon smiled to himself as he descended down her stomach, using his free hand to stroke her thigh, until he was kneeling between her legs on the ground, and looked up at her.

 

"It was _pretty_ great, yeah. Doesn’t mean there isn’t still room for improvement."

 

He didn't wait for an answer and put his arms under her legs, his hands on her hips, pulling her into a slouch and spreading her legs until his lips were almost touching her. She let out a shivering breath. Deacon made an effort to keep the urgency he felt from his voice.

 

"Do you want me to, Blue?"

 

Another quivering breath. He kept still, softly breathing on her, waiting for a response. He wanted her here, in the moment, with him.

 

"Fuck, _yes_ , Deacon, stop fucking torturing me!"

 

He smiled when he saw her grasping the cushions on the couch in anticipation. Laying one hand on her stomach, and using the other to support her, he moved his tongue up her slit very slowly, stopping just short of the top and descending again. She was already wet and swollen, and he savoured her taste while letting his hand wander from her stomach to her thigh. At first, he avoided her clit completely, but as she started breathing more unsteadily he started including it in his choreography, sucking or pressing his tongue down rhythmically, responding to the little noises she was making.

 

The small moments he took to look up presented him with the vision of Blue breathing raggedly, eyes closed, one hand on his head and the other still grasping at the couch. When he pushed two fingers inside of her and curved them upward, her breath caught and her eyes sprung open.

 

"Dee..."

 

Fuck, it felt like the first time again, ready to blow his load without her having actually touched him yet. He doubled down on his efforts until she moaned his name again, and shoved against his head softly.

 

"Are you asking me to stop?"

 

"No! No... fuck, I mean yes."

 

He pulled back a little, got up on his feet, and she used this new position to try to return the favour. Her lips closing around him, her soft tongue exploring the pulsing vein on his erection, the slit on its head... He felt himself slipping and pulled her head back. Wanting her so badly, this would be over in seconds if he gave up control to her now.

 

"Blue, seriously, don't." He pulled her up by her hands, and continued in a softer voice. "Why don't you go sit on the table?"

 

When she hopped onto it, put her hands behind her and leaned back, spreading her legs for him, he almost lost his self-control again. Almost.

 

Instead, he approached her, and, grasping his erection with one hand, teased her entrance with its head, rubbing it along her length and back, until she wrapped her legs around his hips and, basically, pressed him in. He leaned into her, kissing her softly while he slowly pushed in all the way. Holding her tight with both hands, he started thrusting in a slow, controlled pace, stopping whenever he got too close to the edge and using those moments to free one hand and tease her clit until she lay back on her arms writhing and moaning. He leaned in again, and whispered.

 

"May I?"

 

"Fuck... yes, Dee. Please."

 

He started picking up the pace, grasping more tightly, relinquishing some control. Blue was whispering his name, he stopped thinking, and just before it was too late, he remembered to pull back. Blue clenched her legs around him and he spilled himself over her stomach, her name on his lips.

 

“Blue…”

 

She pulled him close, into his own mess, until their cheeks were touching.

 

_Is this even real?_ In moments like these, he was hounded by doubts. Hell, even if it was all just a cruel joke the universe was playing on him, it was so, so worth it.

 

Deacon realized Blue must be uncomfortable as she shifted her weight beneath him, so he picked her up and carried her back to her couch. After he put her down, he looked around for something to clean them off.

 

"There should be a towel over in the back."

 

He found it easily enough, and after he'd wiped himself off, he sauntered back to the coach, picking up their underwear and his shirt along the way. He handed her the towel, put his boxers on, and sat down by her side. She looked at him rather guiltily.

 

"I may have inadvertently... broken your sunglasses. In the chaos, you know?"

She was holding up the glasses minus one of its arms and with one empty socket between two fingers.

 

"I _always_ have spares with me. Don't worry. Wasn’t that uncomfortable?"

 

“You are _very distracting._ ”

 

Was she really blushing right now? He put his arms around her and kissed her on the shoulder.

 

“I think I’m flattered. Now tell me, does this house of yours come with a bed?”

 

“Yeah, it’s upstairs.”

 

“Stairs? How fancy.”

 

She pulled his t-shirt over her head, took him by the hand and led him to her bed on the half-landing. She put his head on her chest, and caressed the back of his neck until she softly drifted off to sleep. Deacon listened to the soothing sound of her heartbeat, and came up with a plan.

 

*                      *                      *

 

So far, everything was going like Deacon had expected. He'd followed Blue and Valentine all the way back to Fiddler's Green Trailer Estates without them noticing. While they were busy retrieving Blue's power armour, he huddled in between some shrubs and took a moment to stuff his mouth with Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, and rifle through his supplies. Not as much Rad-X and RadAway as he would've liked, but it would do. It would have to, it had been all he could scrounge from HQ.

 

He looked through the scope of his sniper rifle to check on the two in the trailer park, and was happy Blue had recently installed a scope with night vision for him. She was no longer recognizable, reduced to a hulking pile of metal. He didn't like seeing her in one of those suits: they reminded him of the Brotherhood too much. And, nowadays, they reminded him uncomfortably of the dangers of groupthink and deferring to superiors. Methods might differ, but any organization that wanted you to swallow their doctrine without question was bad news. Mix that attitude with resources most wastelanders could only dream of and a level of technological equipment most likely only surpassed by the Institute, and you had one lethal concoction.

 

He hoisted his pack on his back, but kept his rifle in his hands and started stalking south. He knew the general direction they were going in, but he wanted to keep eyes on them anyway. He wasn't following Blue to have her get in trouble while he was off somewhere waiting for her to arrive.

 

She'd been so damn cute when they woke up that evening, trying to get him to stay in bed, even going so far as to give him a spare key. Lots of kissing, her prancing about in his shirt as she grabbed something to drink, his smell lingering on her body... He swallowed the lump in his throat as he fingered the key in his pocket. She wouldn't have given it if she didn't trust him. The idea was still so daunting to him. People in the Railroad trusted him with stuff, sure, but not with themselves. People tend to shut you out if you're not willing to open up, yourself. The closest he'd been to having a friend was Tinker Tom. The guy might be a genius with a pretty big heart, but his paranoid tendencies and drug abuse made their relationship asymmetrical at best. Mostly it was just Tinker being nice, and buying into the most far-fetched stories Deacon could come up with.

 

He brought the scope back up to his eye, first confirming the position of the hulking mass that contained Blue, then scanning the area around her and Valentine. They'd only encountered a few stray ferals so far, but Deacon didn't imagine that luck would hold. His head shot up when he heard noises coming from behind him, followed by soft whining. Adrenaline suddenly pumping, he aimed his gun in the general direction of the noise, ready to either shoot or pop a stealthboy, until he saw a shiny wet nose emerging from the undergrowth.

 

"Hey, boy. Didn't fancy getting left behind either, I see?" He scratched Dogmeat behind his ears. "Who's a good boy, huh?"

 

Of all the things, he hadn't expected it would feel strange, being out on his own again, but it did. He'd gotten so used to seeing Blue's back ahead of him, to mirroring her movements, relying on her senses. He was happy to have the dog along. Together they kept following Blue and Valentine, minutes turning to hours.

 

Deacon’s mind went back to that morning. He had trouble admitting it even to himself, but what he and Blue were doing terrified him to his core. He’d spent years trying to keep his life as simple as possible, then she came along, bright shining hope for their cause, and he didn’t just fall head over heels for her, but / _acted on it_ /. And now he had no clue about the motivation behind his own actions. He just knew he couldn’t let her get hurt.

 

They didn't seem to be interested in any buildings or landmarks, although he could imagine Blue taking notes on her pip-boy to revisit some places later. He barely registered the gunfire at first, but when he figured it was coming from Blue's position, he started running without giving it a second thought. From what he could make out, they were taking on a pair of particularly tough radscorpions. The arachnids were burrowing in the ground, emerging and attacking again from behind, one after the other. Beside him, Dogmeat let out a low, menacing growl. Deacon saw a large stinger flash towards Blue and crouched, blood pumping like crazy, trying to get a clear shot while cursing under his breath.

 

"Dammit, Blue, I thought you were paying attention."

 

He was more angry with himself for not paying attention, but needed to calm down if he was to do anything. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep, controlled breaths, then looked down his sights. As he was aiming at the stinger that may or may not have hurt Blue, the earth underneath him seemed to crumble, throwing him to his side. Dogmeat yelped, and Deacon saw a stinger shoot down at him before he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger guys :P 
> 
> Thank you for reading, & let me know what you think!


	16. Panic Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue and Nick travel to the Glowing Sea when she comes across a horrifying scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting the Glowing Sea storyline, but no _real_ spoilers yet
> 
> Titlesong: [Muse - _Panic station_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uBK5kvakD8)

_Dammit._

 

They were getting close to the edge. Blue and Nick had been on the road for hours, and boredom and fatigue had started taking their toll. But Blue wanted to push on, to get as close to the Glowing Sea as possible before they set up camp. She hadn't been paying close enough attention to her surroundings, and now two radscorpions with stingers, and pinchers bigger than her head had snuck up on them. _Deacon would be disappointed in me for walking into this._ Good thing he wasn't around to fire off one of his snarky comments, then.

 

She slung the sniper rifle she'd been carrying back around her neck, and grabbed her shotgun from the improvised holster on her pack. The time for subtlety was past and gone. All of her movements felt sluggish because of the Power Armour she was wearing, and she cursed some more under her breath. She should have tried it on more before going on a critical mission, gotten some practice. _Should have, could have, would have._ Nick was yelling something at her, but it was lost in the bang of her shotgun. The damn scorpions kept burrowing underground the second she got a shot in. But, she and Nick were wearing them down.

 

"Hey, kid! Duck!"

 

Blue instinctively ducked and rolled. But her heavy movements slowed her down and she saw the stinger coming down on her helmet before Nick could finish the creature. So, Power Armour was good for something, at least. She thought she heard a high-pitched whine - not a noise either Nick or radscorpions would make. _Great. Why doesn't some more wildlife join the party. Fun for everyone!_ Scrambling up, she surveyed the area around her for any more attackers. Nick was dealing with the second radscorpion, but she could see more movement to the north. Looking back at Nick a second time to make sure he was doing okay, she started creeping north, exchanging her shotgun for Deliverer. Maybe she could get the drop on whatever was out there.

 

She could hear barking, growling, and occasional whining. There was definitely fighting going on, but no weapons fire, so, just wildlife? Another radscorpion distracted by some feral hounds? As she closed in, Blue realized the noises sounded too familiar.

 

Soon she saw Dogmeat bravely challenging a radscorpion. What the hell was that dog doing all the way out here? He seemed to be protecting something, trying to distract the scorpion from its goal, lunging at it from its side. Still undetected, she lined up a few quick shots, first the stinger, then, as the radscorpion turned to face its unknown assailant, its eyes. It was dead before it had found her. _Much, much easier when they haven't spotted you._

 

"Dogmeat? Come here boy, it's me." Instead, the dog turned back to the thing on the ground it had been protecting, nudging it with its nose. "What have you got there?"

 

Blue followed cautiously, until she recognized the motionless shape for who it was. She pounded the disengage on her Power Armour controls frantically, until there was enough room for her to prematurely wiggle out. Stumbling over her own feet, she fell down next to Dogmeat by Deacon's side, desperately searching for a pulse, breathing, any sign of life... In her mind, the scene of Nate getting shot in the head played as crystal clear as though she was in the Memory Den. This time, she remembered the ring was on her necklace before she reached for it. She wasn’t ready to lose anybody else.

 

"No... no, no, _fuck_ , Deacon. Not now. _Not now._ "

 

She tried to focus on the here and now. He was still alive, although barely. Her hands frantically tried to find injuries, but found none. Radscorpion’s venom, then. Tears pushing against her field of vision, she emptied the pouch that she used as a first aid kit on the ground. The venom was spreading through his bloodstream, and judging by his pulse, the shallowness of his breath, he was fading quickly. She needed to slow the effects of the venom to give him a fighting chance. Pushing Deacon's head to the side to expose his neck, she jabbed him with a Stimpak and checked his pulse again. It barely registered. Panic started taking hold of her. While the dog nudged Deacon's face, she looked him over again, but there were no major flesh wounds. It was definitely the venom. _Think, Blue. Think!_

 

Stimpaks healed injuries, but she needed something to slow down the venom, while simultaneously speeding up the healing. Okay, Jet would speed up his heartbeat enough to spread the drugs through his body quickly, while Med-X would, hopefully, ward off the effects of the venom that would spread faster too. Blue tried sorting through the chems lying on the ground, but her hands were trembling and she kept dropping everything.

 

She took a deep breath and looked at Deacon.

 

_He's dying, but you can save him. It's okay to be scared. Just count to three, and do it._

 

A switch flicked in her brain, and Blue felt a strange calm come over her. She knew what to do. Shoving a softly whining Dogmeat to the side, she injected Deacon with another Stimpak, then Med-X. Pushing the Jet inhaler in his mouth, she pressed the release and followed up with another Stimpak. His heartbeat picked up, she could feel it racing, and his breathing became ragged, but obvious. She only realized she'd been holding her breath when she let out a big sigh of relief. It seemed to be working. Holding his head on her lap, the shock settled back in, and tears began streaming down her face.

 

"Dammit, Dee, you'd better be alright, or... or..."

 

As she sat there, sobbing, Deacon's hand slowly reached for his head, and a pair of blue eyes looked up at her. "Or you'll kill me? God, Blue, it feels like you just did. What the hell..."

 

She pressed her lips to his before he could finish, only to pull back and lecture him. "You're a fucking idiot. What were you thinking? Fuck." She went back to kissing him, face wet with tears, way too relieved to be genuinely angry. It took a minute before Deacon got a chance to answer.

 

"Oh, I figured you might need saving at some point. Enter the white knight, you know?"

 

Blue closed her eyes and grimaced, exasperated. "So you picked up Dogmeat, and followed me here?"

 

"No, he just showed up. Honest."

 

Her eyes shot open, a sharp response on her lips, when someone nearby cleared their throat.

 

" _Ahem._ " Nick was standing a few paces away, the sky behind him light enough that stars were losing visibility. "If you lovebirds are done here, I've found a place that might be good for spending the day in." Blue and Deacon both stared at the detective, speechless, until he continued, "Now, stop looking like the cat that ate the canary. You're really not as adept at subterfuge as you seem to think. Neither of you.”

 

Blue quietly handed Deacon his sunglasses, which had been lying on the ground next to him, nervously awaiting his response. He shoved them onto his face. She turned her attention to Dogmeat, who seemed to have come through the confrontation with the radscorpion unscathed.

 

"Shit, Valentine, discretion is the better part of valour, right?"

 

Deacon’s voice was slightly tense, but the detective chuckled. "A lesson you could stand to learn. Maybe try not throwing loving glances in the lady’s direction every five minutes when you're out on the town." He caught the worried crease on Deacon's forehead, and continued. "Don't worry, kid, discretion is my middle name."

 

Blue looked at the horizon, that was quickly colouring the orange and pink of imminent dawn.

 

“Maybe we should just get moving.” Deacon tried to get up, but Blue put a hand on his shoulder. "Forget it, Dee, you shouldn't exert yourself. Just give me a second."

 

She stuffed the chems back into the pouch she took them from, and got back into her Power Armour. Nick started chuckling again as she scooped Deacon up in her arms. His legs dangling over one arm, the other supporting his back and neck, he tried protesting, but to no avail.

 

"Looks like you're left holding the babe, Blue." Nick couldn't stop laughing softly, and Deacon was looking more and more undignified in Blue's arms.

 

"That’s what happens when people try to play hero. I get to pull them out of the fire. I hope you've learned your lesson, Dee."

 

He made a face. "Me? I've just learned that if I get into trouble, dogs and beautiful women will come to my rescue. Oh, also, free rides around the 'Wealth. The only downside I see is that old men will sass me about it."

 

Blue looked at Nick, who shook his head. "Might have been better to throw this baby out with the bathwater, kid."

 

She laughed, a bit bitterly. "I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?"

 

"You guys know I'm right here, right? Like, you can still see me? Right?"

 

Blue looked to the sky. Deacon could so easily be equal parts funny and infuriating. Why couldn't he just have told her he was coming along whether she liked it or not? Okay, she already knew the answer to that one: Why had she thought it was a good idea to leave him behind? She should have seen this coming. Fuck, so many emotions seemed to battling for dominance in her head. She had no idea where to even start unravelling the mess. And right before heading into the Glowing Sea, too. Nick was right: she needed some rest, time to get her head on straight again.

 

"So, Nick, what kind of spot have you found?"

 

"I saw a small cabin, over there."

 

As they stepped into the swamp Nick had gestured towards, Dogmeat began growling softly. Blue signed to Nick to get down and stay in cover, as she noticed a couple of mirelurk hunters in a fight with some ferals. If she could avoid a fight while she had Deacon in her arms, she would. Thankfully, the creatures were preoccupied with each other. They only had to take on the one mirelurk hunter that was left standing, which was easily handled by Nick and Dogmeat.

 

The detective waved Blue over to the small cabin, suspended above the ground on a tree, where she carefully set Deacon down on his own legs again. He stood, swaying back and forth, and reached out to lean against her.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"Sure, just a bit seasick. Give me a minute to regain my land legs and I'll be a-okay."

 

Blue got out of her Power Armour again, and used the newfound freedom to massage her forehead. What a fucking mess.

 

She took a moment to explore the immediate surroundings of the treehouse. There seemed to be a small farm off to the west. As far as she could tell, there were people living on the farm, but, due to the early hour, everyone was still asleep. Blue made a mental note. The place looked like the people living there could use some help. It wasn't likely anybody else would offer, so the Minutemen would handle it. Next to the tree the treehouse was in, she found some Buffout and Rad-X in the remains of a van.

 

Nick was settling in on the walkway to the cabin. "You kids get some rest. I don't really need to sleep anyway. Just keep the noise to a minimum, will ya?"

 

"I don't know, Nick, I might have to hit him a few times." Blue gently pushed Deacon ahead of her, up the walkway.

 

Inside the cabin, they found the bare necessities: a mattress, a stove, two bottles of Bobrov’s Best Moonshine. There were further stairs to the roof, so while Deacon settled on the mattress, Blue checked it out. She found a watch post with the corpse of a Minuteman. Picking up the militia hat they left behind, she pondered on all the people that were dead, trying to feel sad. But now that the shock, and fear, and anger after finding Deacon had ebbed away, she just felt relieved. Resolute, she turned back, and found him sitting on the mattress inside.

 

"Dee..."

 

"Listen, Blue, I honestly don't need another lecture, here. Did you really expect me to not pursue the Railroad's best chance of getting to the Institute?"

 

She let herself fall on the mattress next to him. She didn't fully believe it was just about the Railroad, not for one second, but if that was what he needed to tell himself... She couldn’t _make him_ trust her, or himself. She couldn’t make him do anything. All she could do was give him the space he seemed to need, and trust in him.

 

"I don't know _what_ I expected, but it definitely did not include watching you almost _die_."

 

His expression hardened. "We both knew – know – that that's one of the possible outcomes of signing up, Prof."

 

Blue closed her eyes and let her head fall against the wall behind her. He fucking used her codename, trying to remind her of their responsibilities, trying to create distance. _Okay, okay, the Railroad comes first. I get that._ She felt tired, emotionally drained, she just wanted to curl up against him and lay her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. That feeling she got when she saw him lying there, as good as dead... It had been horrible. The thought that he could have died, without her even knowing what had happened to him, was even worse. And that was exactly what she'd asked of him, implicitly, by leaving him behind.

 

"I know, just... just say no, next time I try to leave you behind, instead of sneaking after me? Please?" He didn't respond, so she opened her eyes to look at him, feeling tears ready to pour out. "Dee?" She sighed. “I’m sorry. Leaving you behind was stupid and selfish.”

 

She tried to reach for his sunglasses, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into an embrace, whispering softly in her hair.

 

"I'm sorry too, Blue. I didn't mean to put you through that."

 

He stretched out on the mattress, and she snuggled up to him. There was so much left to say, but it could wait, at least for a little bit. At least until after she had slept. Finding respite in the warmth of his presence, her head moving gently with this breathing, the drumming of his heart in her ear, his fingers in her hair, she started drifting off. Half asleep, she draped her arm across his chest and sighed contently.

 

“I love you…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo how do you think Deacon will respond to _that_?
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! <3


	17. Forlorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon tries to deal with feelings, and the squad starts their journey through the Glowing Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Glowing Sea start here!
> 
> Titlesong: [Sunna - _Forlorn_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpkymfmYFck)

They had both been falling asleep, when she softly said those words.

 

"I love you..."

 

 _Oh boy._ He was wide awake now.

 

His head was way too foggy to process what was going on. At first he flat out tried to deny it to himself, he probably only imagined hearing her say it anyway. There was just no way in hell she could feel that way about him. Was there? He was just a fraud with a dark past, who kept lying to her, and had some serious boundary issues. He honestly didn't know why she put up with him. As had become abundantly clear, he was _not_ , nor had he ever been, the hero of this story.

 

But it still felt like he could hear the words echoing through his head. Like they had left some sort of negative space, or impression, in the air.

 

No, like they were a fucking deathclaw that was sitting on his chest, and he just tried keeping his eyes closed and wishing it was only a night terror. Despite all of her book smarts, Blue was just about naive enough to fall for someone like him. Someone who had no business holding her like he was doing now. He should do her a favour and leave now, before she became too invested. _Yeah, run when she says she loves you, you coward. That's staying true to form, right there._

 

Except it wasn't. Not really. It was just that no one had been in a position to say those words to him for a long, long time. Besides, it would really be ridiculous to have gone after her with some misguided notion that she needed his protection, then to have _her_ save _him_ , only to bail on her because she said some words.

 

Ridiculous, but tempting.

 

She moved her head, and he saw the glint of the ring she kept on a chain around her neck. She could have been talking to her late husband. He tried to remember his name… Nate. That was it. He only knew because he had studied the terminals in Vault 111 after she'd emerged from there. Then he had to acknowledge to himself that it wasn't so likely she was talking to her dead spouse, if she didn't mention him, ever. Not even in her sleep, Deacon realized now. She had said _his_ name in her sleep, though. He stared at his fingers, entangled in her blue hair. If she was going after this Virgil character to find the Institute, she deserved Railroad back-up.

 

_Oh, stop lying to yourself. You know why you're here. You know why you're staying._

 

He loved the way she held on to life, like it was the most precious thing, even when she had been dealt such a shitty hand. He loved her willingness to help others, even at a cost to herself. The way she saw something in him that nobody had seen since Barbara, least of all himself, was just further proof that she was too good for this world. He'd tell her he loved her too, if only it wouldn't feel like the betrayal of a lifetime. Or two, actually. He found himself wondering again whether she'd been so exceptional in the Old World. _Probably._

 

Careful not to wake Blue, he got up from the mattress, grabbed his cigarettes and one of the bottles of moonshine, and made for the roof, where he sat down on the single chair. The sun was well above the horizon by now. To the west, he could see activity on the small farm. He could hear Valentine talking softly to Dogmeat, down below. The swamp around the cabin was an abysmal sight, dead tree trunks sticking out like sore thumbs. He lit a cigarette, and tried to sort through his thoughts while drinking from the bottle. He had to get his head in the game. _If I fuck this up, will she leave the Railroad?_ It was a possibility, of course, and one he was terrified to face. He _had_ to make sure that did not happen.

 

He kept drinking, smoking, and thinking, his head slowly filling with a pleasant buzz.

 

Suddenly he felt a hand on his neck. Reaching for a weapon that wasn't there, it dawned on him that he must have fallen asleep, because the sun was high in the sky now. He remembered where he was, and when he looked behind him, Blue pulled her hand back and started grinning sheepishly. His head was killing him; it almost felt like he was coming down with a fever.

 

"You might want to come inside, Dee. Your fair complexion doesn't quite agree with the sun." _Oh, no._ He raised his hand to his head, which was practically glowing with the heat it was giving off. "Yeah, you're looking kinda red there, buddy."

 

He followed her inside, wondering if she remembered what she had said, what he would say if she brought it up, if he should bring it up, if she didn't. Once they were away from prying eyes, however, Blue made it easy for him. She turned around and caught him in her arms, standing on her toes to kiss his sunburnt nose. Keeping her face level with his, she smiled.

 

"I do love the freckles, by the way."

 

Deacon's stomach churned as she used _that_ word again. He'd never done anything to deserve her. Big green eyes were peering at his glasses, their expression somewhere between sadness and joy. She knew what she’d said, that much was obvious.

 

"You seem to love a lot of silly things."

 

Her smile grew wider before she responded. "The world needs more silly things, in my humble opinion. They make me happy."

 

Was she still talking about freckles? He didn't think so. Fuck, why was he so bad at these things? She had been so understanding and sweet, and he was just suppressing the constant urge to run, even though he knew he'd probably come running back, because she was vital to the Railroad. Vital to him. There wasn't really a difference. That thought made him wrap his arms about her, too. At a loss for words for once, he planted his lips on her forehead, hoping she would understand the gesture. He just couldn’t say it, not yet. If only he could be sure he could keep her safe… When he let her go, she grabbed two bottles of Nuka Cola and handed him one.

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

It was obvious she was still worried about him. He didn't want to give her any new reasons to send him away, so he opened the bottle and nonchalantly drank from it.

 

"I'm peachy-keen, Prof. Good to go, you know?"

 

 _Way too not raise suspicion, idiot._ Blue's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Fuck, if she wasn't going to question him before, she sure would now.

 

"I promise I won't send you away, Dee. Just be straight with me. Are you okay?"

 

Was she actually being more professional than he was? He really was coming apart at the seams. After a deep sigh, he answered.

 

"I have a hell of a headache, but that's mostly the sun, I think. I'll be okay, Blue."

 

She walked towards her pack, and started rummaging around in it, counting the Rad-X and RadAway and stashing most of it in the pouch she kept on her belt. The tension in her neck told him she’d made up her mind about something.

 

"You should take the Power Armour."

 

"No, no way. Not happening. The whole point is to keep _you_ safe."

 

Blue turned around and faced him with a look in her eyes he'd only seen when she was looking for a raider that had almost shot one of them. He swallowed as she planted her forefinger on his chest.

 

"You almost died. I _watched_ you almost die. You _will_ get in that Power Armour, even if I have to knock you out, put you in there myself, and weld it shut." Her finger accentuated her intonation by pounding on his chest, but she continued in a softer tone of voice. "That way, you can recklessly throw yourself between me and danger, if you feel so inclined, and I won't have to worry as much. Besides, I think I have plenty of Rad-X, and the thing is a bit too clunky for me."

 

"Oh, sure, let Deacon have the clunky gizmos."

 

He said it, but felt relieved she at least made good on her word not to leave him behind again. And he was still feeling a little light-headed. Maybe it really was for the best. He just needed to remember why he'd recruited Blue into the Railroad in the first place. She was competent, and she was willing to risk her life for the cause. Now he just had to make sure that she was willing to risk _his_ life, as well. Before Deacon could think of a way to impart that particular lesson on Blue, Nick came walking in, closely followed by Dogmeat, and Deacon quietly took a step back from her. Nick might know, but that was no reason to break with good habits.

 

"Are you kids rested?"

 

Blue looked at Deacon. "Do you want to wait until nightfall?"

 

He shook his head. "If the Institute didn't follow this Virgil character, I highly doubt they'd follow us. I don't think they could replace Kellogg that easily."

 

"Okay, Nick, looks like we're ready to go."

 

Outside, Deacon reluctantly got in the Power Armour, eliciting a familiar, throaty chuckle from Nick.

 

"Will the shining armour help, you think?"

 

"It levels the playing field, my mechanical friend."

 

"I don't know who you think you're in competition with, kid, but it's not me."

 

They both looked at Blue as she came strolling down the walkway from the treehouse, adjusting the straps on her pack, and oblivious to their exchange. Deacon wondered what the old synth meant. Was he in competition with himself? With Blue? That detective was too perceptive and too smart to make such a remark without _meaning_ something with it.

 

As they set out westwards, Deacon mulled over how he'd rather be back at Home Plate with Blue, where he felt slightly safer expressing himself. For so long, all the privacy he knew had been derived from anonymity. Being with Blue in her Diamond City home... he'd actually felt like he wasn't being watched for once. Not by anyone he needed to hide from, at least. His eyes darted towards Blue, who was a few steps in front of him, scaling the hill beyond the little settlement where farmers were ending their day of work. As he stared at her, his eyes wandered to her ass as he remembered their night in Diamond City. Nick cleared his throat while walking next to him, and when they locked eyes the synth suggestively raised an eyebrow.

 

"Enjoying the view, I see?"

 

"I thought discretion was your middle name, Valentine."

 

The detective just chuckled, and stared at him. Man, those glowing yellow eyes could be damn disconcerting when they looked at you, all knowingly. Deacon felt sorry for the crooks trying to keep information from good old Nick. Too bad he felt like one of those crooks today. In front of them, Blue halted.

 

"Shh."

 

They'd almost scaled the hills that marked the edge of the Glowing Sea, and Blue was gesturing to the North. Deacon scanned the hilltop until he found what she was warning them about. A giant, savage deathclaw. He sighed. At least the wildlife didn't present the usual moral quandaries, he told himself, knowing full well he often felt worse for killing molerats than he did for raiders.

 

Blue didn't unholster her weapon, and started sneaking. After a few more minutes they'd passed the deathclaw undetected, and enjoyed their first full view of the Glowing Sea. Or, enjoyed... Hills and debris were scattered all the way towards the cloud-spotted mountains in the far distance. Apart from the lone church tower not too far from them, there were hardly any man-made structures to be seen, and none that were still standing. Half the church seemed to have sunken into the ground, like the ground had once gone liquid before suddenly re-solidifying. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains that rose against the horizon, but it almost looked like it had crashed in to the ground instead, forming a giant, glowing crater in front of them.

 

Deacon groaned to himself. All his experience travelling with Blue told him that that was their destination. As they descended on the other side, the hairs on the back of Deacon’s neck stood up. He'd thought Boston itself was in a bad state, but this...

 

It wasn't just the church. Every building they came across had been partially swallowed by the earth. Soon they started coming across yellow glowing pools, and he heard Blue whisper about magma. Fuck, it was unimaginable that people had caused this destruction, even if he knew it to be true. The sky, even the air around them, first turned orange, then green like a radstorm. Even Dogmeat seemed slightly affected, pressing himself against Blue's legs at every chance. Protected by the Power Armour he was wearing, Deacon hardly noticed the radiation or any of its effects, but he was acutely aware of the single layer of cloth between Blue and the sickening air. The Geiger counter in Blue's Pip-Boy was constantly ticking like a metronome, and he was relieved to see her check it regularly. Occasionally she sighed and took some more Rad-X, RadAway, and Stimpaks. She even checked the dog.

 

An unexpected advantage of the terrain was that they were able to simply avoid most of the creatures roaming the radiation-ridden wastes. It wasn't until they entered a trench of sorts, which lead straight towards the eerily glowing crater, now hidden from view, that they were forced to confront a couple of radscorpions. The creatures were stronger than the ones he'd encountered before, but still no match for the four of them.

 

Deacon estimated they'd been travelling for over 5 hours when the terrain began sloping upwards more steeply. He couldn't believe what he saw when they finally looked in to the crater. Buildings. And these were definitely not Pre-war buildings. Who the hell would want to live in a heavily irradiated crater? Ghouls could, but he'd never met any that seemed _that_ crazy. This left one answer: The people who venerated radiation. He felt his heart sink. So far, he'd never met a member of the Church of Atom that hadn't tried to kill him. _Great fun,_ he thought to himself as they carefully approached the first set of buildings.

 

Alternately keeping an eye on Blue, and looking for signs of life, he cursed his lack of intel on this place. A Church of Atom outpost. Like they needed more serious players in the Commonwealth. They walked toward the building in the centre of the crater, where he could see signs of life, but no people.

 

When they emerged on the other side, he finally saw some of the zealots, lost in prayer on the wooden platforms surrounding the buildings that had been erected against the ridge of the crater. Blue signalled them to hang back as she approached the only person that seemed to have noticed their arrival, her empty hands held up in that universal gesture for peaceful intentions. Deacon felt his fingers itch, but managed to keep himself in check, and his weapon holstered. He held his breath while she approached the figure and addressed them.

 

“Excuse me? I’m looking for someone.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, back to Blue's pov next time. Let me know what you think?  
> And, as always, thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'll be following F!SS & Deacon throughout their Commonwealth adventures, where ever they may lead. I don't know because I haven't finished the main quest-line yet.  
> If you like lots of Deacon related stuff, I'm rabid-raygun on tumblr  
> Also, find my friend & beta reader Anuket's Deacon fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5808730/chapters/13387417), go read it if you haven't already!  
>   
> Contains quotes from Fallout 4, & by Tolstoi; Shakespeare; Jane Austen; Hemingway  
> And yes, the chapters are named after songs from the playlist I'm currently listening to, it's on [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6LlW902JRk&list=PLAj2MPnV439FI10hgoVPZ0LKAClm0NSGV)  
> Title taken from The Ring and the Book by Robert Browning


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